Another weekend, another wedding.

2011 has been the year of weddings for us. Not only did we get hitched, we have been to three weddings so far this year. We also have three more weddings this year and one early next year. We are officially surrounded by people in love, apparently. (P.I.C. has put his foot down though and declared that we will not go to anymore weddings next year after January.)

This past weekend, we trekked west for our friend's wedding. We knew we were in for a good time, knowing that the bride and groom never shied away from fun and knowing we'd have some of our favorite people in attendance. After a very long drive, impeded by a sink hole blocking our access to the highway, we finally arrived. Donning our wedding attire, we watched our dear friends get hitched in a lovely glass room along the river. Then we proceeded to attack their open bar with reckless abandon. (We're really great guests.) We enjoyed the cocktail hour, laughed our way through dinner, and patiently waited while the bride and groom did their required dances. We knew our turn to dance would come soon. (We are TOTAL dancers.)

As it turned out, their wedding wasn't the only one being housed in the convention center that evening. Nope. There were two more. Of course, this lead to a very serious discussing about crashing the other weddings. How. When. Best technique. P.I.C. began trolling the rooms, checking out the goods. First room? His choice bourbon. He'd have to crash that one first. Having discussed it, we knew that we'd have to wait a bit before we could appropriately gain access. So we took a few spins on the dance floor, ate some cake, drank some more, and got ready for a little debauchery.

I had just gotten back to our cocktail table after a rousing dance session (to Ke$ha, I'm sure), when I see P.I.C. approaching me from the other direction rather sheepishly.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you have a dollar?"

"Why?"

"Well, I went to that other wedding with the good bourbon. Turns out, it was a cash bar. So now I have to go back and give him a dollar because I only had four ones on me."

Yes, folks, he crashed a wedding with a CASH BAR.

Rookie mistake, clearly. We later all discovered that the wedding across the hall not only had the choice bourbon, but also a  photo booth. I can't wait til that bride and groom go through their guest book of photo strips and see one of me, P.I.C. and our friends signed lovingly, thanking them for the awesome time.

A plethora of weddings in one year will make you a little loopy, I suppose.

So much to say, so little to write.

I had dinner with my husband tonight. MY HUSBAND. I know. You're used to me calling him P.I.C. But now he is, without a doubt, my husband.

Our wedding day was, without a doubt, the best day of my life so far. I married my best friend. I committed to the person who will be there for me through thick and thin. But right now, I don't want to write about it for all to read. There are so many beautiful emotions coursing through my body right now, and that have been going since Friday. There are so many beautiful memories that just aren't quite cemented in my brain. The entire wedding day seems like a dream, from the beautiful morning to the goodnight kiss delivered in our hotel room. But I want to keep it to myself right now.

I have become used to delivering all sorts of details of my life on the Internet. Most are funny (to me at least), some are sentimental, but I put a lot of it out there. However, a day as personal as April 30, 2011, my royal wedding, if you will, needs to remain locked in my heart a bit. I am not entirely sure why, but I know it's deeply personal to me. I don't want to share it.

At dinner tonight, I heard the song to which I walked down the aisle, and I wept. Tears ran down my face as I faced my husband in the candlelight, over our tasting plate of Spanish cheese and meats. He smiled at me, and I knew. At that very moment, I decided I would write something for him. Something exceedingly verbose to encapsulate our very special day. I would write for him, and him alone.

Stay tuned. There are funny and wonderful stories I shall share. But for now, there are certain things that I intend to keep between myself and my husband.

I hope you understand.

Pushing pause.

So now THAT'S over...

Meaning the royal wedding and all...now the people can turn their attention to the real important wedding...MINE.

Just kidding.

My asshole cat woke me up around 6:20 a.m. (of course, leaving P.I.C. to sleep soundly for another hour or so), so I got up and watched some of the royal wedding. Kate Middleton was lovely. Her dress was amazing. I saw them kiss on the balcony (twice...escandalo!!!) Now perhaps the world can move on.

In other news, I seem to have forgotten the days. I swore that yesterday was Friday. Of course, I was wrong. Today is Friday. Time seems to be rushing past me, flying away from me. It seems that since December 23, I have been planning, anxious to get past this hurdle called the "wedding." Only now that the time is here, I want to push pause.

I want to savor every moment of these next few days. I want to remember that P.I.C. suggested to me yesterday that two days was too long to wait. He wanted to go to city hall yesterday. I want to remember drinking champagne with two of the loveliest girls around last night as we got glue all over our hands putting programs together. I don't want to forget the feeling of calmness that began to take over my body yesterday at the same time the butterflies moved into my stomach for good. I suspect that calmness was a form of exhaustion, but I'm embracing the lack of total anxiety.

I'm excited right now, but also feel like everything is set to run its course. Friends are flying into town. Champagne has been purchased. Errands are mostly complete.

As I sit here on my couch and sip on my coffee as P.I.C. continues to spoon my pillow in bed with Oxford creepily staring at him (don't ask me, he's a creep of a cat), I want to slow everything down. I don't want to forget a moment of these next two days.

It might not be the royal wedding, but it is my wedding. Our wedding. And the weekend is here. I can't say finally because time seems to have sped rapidly to this day. If I could just slow it down for the next 48 hours...

I am so very happy.

One week.

Time has been flying by at such a rapid pace lately. YES, I have been "counting down." Who doesn't do that when a big event is on its way. Speaking of, at seven days out, am I entitled to proclaim it the FINAL COUNTDOWN? (For the record, I am certain that I have posted that link before, or some incarnation of it. Sorry. I love that magician named Gob AND Arrested Development. It's funny stuff.)

I'm tired of thinking about wedding-related stuff all the time. I am sure that I have become "that girl" that talks about nothing other than her wedding. It's nearly impossible not to be though. I can't wait to have the brain of a normal functioning woman in my head again. I can't wait 'til I don't get scolded for taking my new diamonds out of the box and trying them on. As of next Saturday, I can wear all of my diamonds. Yay! (See, I start talking about it, and that's all you get. Wedding-schmedding.)

However. Here is the important part: I am in love with the man I will marry. After we get done with the ceremony, we will be surrounded by our closest friends and family. We will all be dressed up. There will be an open bar. We will dance and eat cupcakes (mojito-flavored, naturally) and drink and have a the best time.

Oh, and I get to wear fake eyelashes. WIN. (I love them.) So, seven days. YIKES.

Dreams.

My dreams have taken a turn for the worse. I definitely have had my fair share of truly odd dreams that leave me stumped for meaning, but lately, these dreams have been blatantly easy to interpret.

DREAM ONE: P.I.C. informs me I am pregnant. How does he know? He took a urine test. DUH. Maid of honor is seriously disappointed. I then begin to fret my recent wine consumption. (P.S. I most definitely am not pregnant.) When I explained this dream to P.I.C., he sighed and asked me, "Do I need to have you revisit a 6th grade health class?" Whatever. Dream P.I.C. was the one that got it wrong, so it's his fault.

DREAM TWO: We begin the ceremony, but key players are missing (such as the best man). Ceremony takes place in my grandparent's living room. P.I.C. and I start to say our vows. The problem? We never wrote any. We hem and haw out a few nice things, then turn to the few people there and say, "Um, I guess those are our vows," only to turn around and find out our officiant is missing. The reason? She decided to take a nap and finish it up later. Apparently, we had started the ceremony an hour early. Why it took place at my grandparent's house is beyond me.

SIGH.

I look forward to falling asleep tonight. Stupid stress.

On a much happier note, we had a blast taking our last-minute engagement photos and they turned out pretty amazingly.

Just a sampling of the cuteness that ensued during our photo shoot...

Eleven days...yikes! Fingers crossed I don't lose it before then.

Frustration over a special kind of writer's block.

Clearly, I do not have writer's block on the blog front. Nope. I've been blabbing incessantly this week about anything and everything. That is not the issue.

Of course, this one is wedding-related.

For much of the wedding planning, I have a had an attitude of "I don't care, let's just pick one." However, now that it's time to choose the readings for our wedding and the writing of our vows, I am suddenly stricken with panic.

Clearly, I am not the type of girl to just have some boring poem read. I'm not a boring girl. Frankly, neither is P.I.C. Well, he's not a girl at all, but he's not boring either. We are rather unique and goofy individuals. A reading of the first Corinthians will not cut it. Therefore I have spent the better part of three hours on the internet googling various phrases that I hope will lead me to a rather unique and special reading. Actually, no. I need two. I want two nice readings. TO NO AVAIL. The internet is failing me mostly this evening.

Oh, and I have to write vows too. Initially, I was all "WHATEVER.We will just do the usuals." But after thinking about it for awhile, I decided that it wouldn't be representative of us. Much like a canned ceremony or a canned reading, canned vows just aren't us.

Here's the thing. Unlike picking out the dishes (I still almost feel bad for the lady at Bed Bath & Beyond), I care immensely about our readings and about our vows. This is the part that won't last very long and that most people will not remember.

I will remember. It does matter to me. This is the guts of our day. The short time we will stand in front of everyone, unbustled and anxious, will be the most important part of our day. That's the part where we get married. It is the reason for the copious amounts of alcohol and serious dance party later in the evening.

So. Yeah. Writer's block. Vows. Readings. I got nothing right now.

I did, however, finally stop by a florist. So at least if everyone is just standing around awkwardly, reading nothing, no vows being professed, I'll have a bouquet. Right?

A totally weird guilt trip.

I am no stranger to the feeling of guilt. Whether it be forgetting to accomplish something at work or inadvertently slighting someone, I feel like guilt has a tendency to take over my brain. (Well, sometimes I think the guilt comes from paranoia, but that is another post for another time. You're not mad at me, readers, are you? PLEASE? I have blogged like THREE days in a row. Love me. Thanks.)

Lately, I have been feeling guilty for a completely out-of-character reason: working out. Obviously, I am getting married soon and therefore have the accompanying "dress fitting" appointments. When I went for my first fitting, I was surprised. While I did purchase my dress several sizes too big for my body (hello, sample sale!), it was even bigger than I had remembered. I was thrilled. My gym efforts and "sometimes" wedding diet were paying off. Woot!

Well, fast forward to about two weeks later when I showed up for my second fitting. Turns out, my gym efforts were STILL paying off. Too well. She had to take in my dress another few inches. Sigh. I should be thrilled. I am getting results. But she yelled at me. This is how the conversation went.

Seamstress: "You exercise. You lose too many inches."
F.A.: "Well, I like to exercise. It makes me feel good."

STARE DOWN.

SS: "You don't exercise before you buy dress, do you?"

GUILTY SILENCE.

F.A.: "No, not really."

SIGH.

SS: "STOP exercising. It's hard to do this job. STOP IT."

The next day, I went to the gym. Ooops.

I haven't been going as often. I don't want to give her my OTHER leg as payment for having to take it in yet again. However, I feel it would be far more tragic to go in for my fitting, having ceased all exercise, and be TOO BIG for my wedding gown.

Sadly, the more I go work out, the more I want to work out. I do feel better. The results are very encouraging. I don't feel as guilty binging on the SPRINGY Oreos that Faux Trixie and Amie brought over to my house SOLELY to ruin my wedding diet. I actually am able to wake up at 5:15 a.m. and get myself over to the gym. In fact, the instances where I totally snap at P.I.C. for his very existence because he woke me up for the gym are fewer and farther between.

Even better, is that I have found that my gym has Bravo on its cardio machines. That means when I go to workout, I can get my fill of reality TV that I don't get at home. (I haven't had cable in my home for over three years.) And that? I can't argue with that.

So I guess I will deal with the guilt. Skinny bride PLUS the Real Housewives? That is a guilt trip I will continue to ride.

Stay tuned for a report on the wrath of my seamstress.

Thirty-nine days to go...

Let's see how many more glasses P.I.C. and I can break. Friends, if you are wondering why our gift registry went from ten to eleven glasses, you now know why. Right now, we are down a champagne flute (P.I.C.), a ramekin (P.I.C.), and a white wine glass (ME...but I am still figuring a way to make it P.I.C.'s fault). Sigh. This is why we don't have nice things. Or perhaps I just use wine glasses too much? NO COMMENT THERE.

The wedding planning is coming along, despite me ignoring the fact that I really should find someone to make me and my bestie a bouquet and there is the issue of the rentals that need to be arranged (P.I.C.!!!)

This past weekend I had the pleasure of one of those rites of passage called the bachelorette party. Oh yes. I painted the town red. Literally. I donned red lips, a red dress, and I brought out my obnoxious 'tude times ninety-seven. It was an epic entire day of girly fun, and while I do tend to disclose my business here...this day is all mine and my ladyfriends'. To those that attended...I love you. It was truly my most fun day ever.

Let's just hope the wedding can top THAT, Teen Witch-style.

Procrastination Nation.

My entire life has been defined by continual instances of procrastination. Paper due in college? I will likely start that the night before it is due. Final in college? I will go to my professor's dinner party in his fancy house, drink some wine, THEN study. In college, this seemed to work out fine. I graduated magna cum laude. (Fancy, right?) Well, I attempted that in law school. Turns out, procrastination wasn't really effective when the professors usually grade you based on one final exam that comprises of an entire semester of reading.

Sigh. I figured it out, procrastinated less (hey, I am who I am) and still...eked out mediocre grades. My procrastination meant that my first attempt at submitting my case note for evaluation (hoping to have it deemed "publishable quality"). Sadly, my first attempt was shot down. I know I procrastinated for my second attempt, but it was way more intense, with massive efforts at research, footnotes and writing being my life for two weeks before it was due. This time? Success. AND publication. (Win for me.)

Of course, these life lessons in "why you shouldn't procrastinate" never have stuck. I still scramble to get motions and answers on file by the deadline. Such is my life. Most lawyers will probably admit to procrastinating once in awhile, if not often. I promise you this.

My point? Well, in planning a wedding in a short amount of time, procrastination is not an option. I mean, it is, but you'll really screw up your plans. In any event, I have mostly been staying on top of everything. It's really a Christmas miracle, if you think about it. The procrastination queen is not procrastinating.

One of my good friends is a fabulous graphic designer, and she created our invitations (which are amazing and awesome and totally not wedding-traditional which is probably the reason I adore them SO MUCH). She dropped them off at our house the other night and I went to work. By that night, I had nearly cut them all out with my new and nifty paper cutter. The next night? I had finished cutting them out and addressed almost all of them. Yesterday, I went to the post office (got the sullen POST OFFICE WORKER to be nice to me...another Christmas miracle), got our stamps and finished the invitations. Did you HEAR that? I finished them. Well, with P.I.C.'s help. This morning? They went in the mailbox.

No turning back now.

Wow. This lack of procrastination must mean that I am READY to get married. (P.S. I totally am.)

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a motion due on Monday that I haven't started. OOOOPS.

A rant (wedding planning edition).

Oh, wedding planning. How much fun are YOU? I shouldn't gripe, I know. But right now, I need to be reviewing doctors' notes and the like, not cutting out invitations (which, by the way, are AWESOME.) When I first began planning my wedding, my pal Miss Sass told me, "Get ready to be a part-time lawyer for the next four months." Little did I know, she was right. Even when I am not actively calling people to make the arrangements, the wedding is always on my mind.

Additionally, I am learning first-hand how weddings make people crazy. Truly. I am fully aware that there are certain issues with having my wedding in a big city, namely the people who do not live in said big city find it highly inconveniencing. There are the "Sighhhh, I guess I will figure out how to have someone give me a ride to the city, because I am really not that comfortable driving in there," comments and the "How about you pay for a shuttle for all of us from the hotel to the wedding site" comments, and the freak outs that the hotel is still too expensive (despite P.I.C. finding a stellar rate). These comments make me feel selfish for having my wedding in Chicago, despite the fact that I have had my life here for over ten years, this is where I live now, and where I intend to live for quite some time. Apparently, my selfishness is getting in the way of other people enjoying my day. I'm making my wedding rather inconvenient for some people. SIGH.

I know that this will all pass, but of course, the people that complain tend to be the people that have not offered to help. I'm not talking about financially, but rather just in general. Please don't add more things to my "to do" list without making it a little bit easier on ME. Yeah, this might be selfish. But it IS my wedding (OUR wedding), and we are primarily paying for it, so deal with it. DEAL. WITH. IT. And please don't complain (TO ME) about the cost of the hotel rooms. You are more than willing to find a better deal elsewhere. We set these up as an accommodation to YOU. Don't be upset that we didn't work miracles and get hotels for $80 a night. Not going to happen in down-town Chicago, babe. All this being said, go ahead and gripe about my decisions...but just not to me. I am doing the best I can on a budget. Please don't make me feel bad that I am not spending even MORE money to make life easier on you.

END OF RANT. (I would say sorry, but this is my blog and I am entitled to whine if I want.)

Those of you who are getting married and in the middle of wedding planning, or have planned a wedding, wanna share some stories with me too, so that I know I am not alone?

Melt-down No. 867.

Suffice it to say that my first world problems have gotten the upper hand, and I had a melt-down this morning shortly after getting to work. I do not even want to express what really set me off. Rest assured, it was the dumbest thing ever.

SIGH.

Stupid wedding.

Also on the horizon is saying goodbye to my very dearest friend. She embarks on a new east coast adventure this next month. Luckily, the goodbye is not forever, and really, we likely will see each other the same amount as when she lives here, but I am still sad. Saying goodbye is never easy. Tonight, our tight-knit group will tie one on and likely drink too much champagne to say "bye for now." It will be fun. We will laugh. We might cry. Most of all, we will be together. Well, until next month at my bachelorette party. We'll do that all again. "Cuz that's what friends are forrrrr...." (And, now that song is stuck in my head.)

This morning was a colossal failure in my privileged, whiny, white-girl world.

But then P.I.C. texts me about something and instead of "Yeah," his fancy Android phone changes it to "Utah." Sigh. I think he knows how much I love it when he says, "Utah" so he leaves it to make me smile. And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am marrying him.

Well, that and his ridiculously good fashion sense.

All the exciting things you likely don't care to know.

Remember how I said that I was not going to become obsessed with my wedding? How I didn't care that much? Blah. Blah. Blah.

I LIED.

I mean, I'm not fully obsessed. I will confess, however, that my nerves have been shot lately. I might have threatened to punch a caterer in his nether regions if he didn't send me a contract soon. Well, I didn't say that to his face. I said it to P.I.C. who laughed, then slowly hid my phone from me. As if?! We all know my level of passive aggressiveness. I might broadcast it on the interwebz, but I most CERTAINLY will not tell him that to his face. (Good news...I got the contract today!)

I had a truly lovely bridal shower, a fantastically food-rific engagement party (props to La Gondola...seriously, if you are a Chicagoan, you must go here. The food is delightful. I have fabulous dreams about their pastas) and our wedding date creeps nearer and nearer. I try very hard to not be one of "those" people and talk incessantly about my wedding, cuz seriously? No one cares that much. Just say, "Don't worry, it's open bar" and people will love you. (Also. It IS open bar. COSMOS FOR EVERYONE!!!!)

I mean, you can drink a cosmo if you want. I probably will stick to champagne. But the point is, if you WANT to drink cosmos at my wedding, you probably can.

In other, non-wedding related news, one of my "crazies," as I have not-so-affectionately nicknamed the people that sue my clients pro se (sans lawyer) has retaliated against my stellar courtroom performance. Yup, the seal has been broken and that S.O.B. sued me (please don't tell me you need to know what I mean when I say "S.O.B.") On Valentine's Day, no less! The very day I professed my love for the world and for my friends via blog posting. In any event, it's more annoying than anything. The man is legitimately mentally unstable. I didn't do anything wrong. But geez, if he wanted to send me a valentine, regular mail was fine...he didn't need to send a Cook County Sheriff. Stay tuned for updates on that little exciting bit in my life.

So, to recap: Crate and Barrel has taken over our tiny apartment. I got sued by a nutter. Wedding planning is slowly driving me mad.

Life sure is interesting here.

I'm pretty surely I narrowly survived a choking last night

Yesterday evening started out so promisingly. P.I.C. and I both left work a little early to hustle to a tasting for wedding food. We were looking forward to it, knowing that we loved the restaurant and that it would be a unique and fun idea to feed our guests. As expected, we LOVED the food. The owner (I think he was the owner) was ever-so-gracious and fed us thoroughly. Not only did we leave stuffed, he wrapped up all we did not eat for us to take home. Score. It was a good eating night.

So, P.I.C. and I headed home to unwind for the evening. We watched a movie, then started chatting wedding logistics. Y'know, the boring stuff like renting tables, dishes, etc. (BARF.) We then started discussing how we would get the tables set up and, as is typical of late when getting stressed out with wedding stuff that is not fun (read: anything other than eating or music), I started to feel this tightness well up in my chest and flashes of panic wrecked through my head.

F.A. "Um, OK. We don't need to figure this all out now. K?"
P.I.C. "Well, we do need to figure it out."
F.A. "I KNOW. Just not right now."

::::Silence::::

At this point, P.I.C. gets this look on his face that I have now been able to put a finger on. It is a look of utter frustration and irritation that tells me that it wouldn't be so bad if he just choked me...a....litttle....bit to make the pain stop. We stop talking about wedding stuff and go to bed.

As we are laying in bed, I get P.I.C. to admit he was utterly frustrated with me (WHAT NERVE) and that he gets frustrated when I "shut down" and decide I don't want to play wedding planning.

F.A. "I hate that look on my face. It looks as though you want to choke me a little."

P.I.C. just starts laughing. "No. I really don't want to choke you. I just think that you are an incredibly frustrating woman."

F.A. "Duh."

::::Silence:::::

F.A. "But don't you think that if you just choked me a little, your frustration would be subdued a bit?"
P.I.C. "Seriously. What is wrong with you? I promise I don't want to choke you."
F.A. "OK. Fine. I'm glad. G'night. Love you."

Sigh. I really don't think that he wants to choke me. Honestly, I am fully aware of the level of frustration I cause him. It is as though I am outside my body witnessing myself act like a bratty jerk, but I cannot stop it. I can't help it! I don't WANT to figure out who will set up our over-priced rental tables. Sorry. It is not fun for me. Sometimes, I just want someone to figure this all out for me. Then I remember that in three months, this shenanigan will be over, and I can just enjoy being married, regardless of who sets up our damn tables on that day.

Yeah. I am not a Bridezilla. I'm more of an Asshole-Bride. Sorry.

Everyone is talking about a diet...

New Years resolutions has brought a rash of blog postings about losing weight. Getting healthy. Getting to the gym. I'm sure, if I had made an effort to get to the gym at any point in the last three weeks, I would have noticed a certain increase in the early morning traffic. You'll notice that my postings have not focused on these goals.

Sadly, I have been a gym flunky. Of course, I want to get healthy. Of COURSE, I don't want to be a tubby bride (and a big fat THANK YOU to P.I.C. for putting that particular phrase in my head*). I just am a lazy individual. So sue me. It's freezing outside. I am not sleeping well. My life is full of stress. I just don't want to work out these days. I drink cup after cup of green tea thinking, "THIS IS HOW I WILL DO IT. THE POUNDS WILL MELT AWAY NOW." I will let you know if it works out.

I'm not judging anyone for posting about weight-loss related issues. I most-certainly could take a page from their books and attempt to make myself accountable for getting in-shape. So, at this time, I am making a request. Can you please motivate me? We are at T-minus 101 days til wedding day. Help me.

Also, do not worry about the green tea tip. I got that memo, and I am AWESOME at it.

* P.I.C. didn't call me a tubby bride, nor did he say that I was going to be one. He merely suggested that this would be his way of motivating me to get up early in the morning to go to the gym. I kindly suggested that him calling me a tubby bride would be my motivation to give him a black eye. Problem solved. I'm going to be a great wife.

New source of comedy...bridal magazines.

According to this wedding magazine, one way of making my wedding truly unique is to have a signature color.

Allow me to take a dramatic pause.

Signature. Color. Are these people serious? Would you like another suggestion to really make your wedding special and unique? Start a bridal blog. Well, lucky for YOU GUYS, I kind of have. Not really. Because I have been so busy with planning my wedding (which, apparently, I'm not allowed to call SHOTGUN because I am not pregnant...good to know) that I figured that most people didn't want to hear all about my details. I am tired of the details, truth-be-told.

Hey, if I get in a creative wedding rut, at least I have this magazine article that will help me make my wedding special. "Pick a special font." That doesn't seem too difficult. I can do that. How about another suggestion. "Bedazzle your Bouquet." Now I am convinced that the author of this article is a thirteen year-old girl. Although my inner teenager is squealing at the idea of putting sparkles on EVERYTHING, this does not seem to be a really great and unique idea for my wedding day. That's just me though. As an aside, anyone interested in having a bedazzling party? T-shirts? Pillow cases?

Or, ya know, I could just focus on the fact that I'm marrying an awesome dude. That might make it special too. (Sadly, that is not listed among the 75 suggestions.)

My eyes are like leaky faucets.

Obviously, I have become a woman obsessed. Wedding planning has taken over my life. I mean, it was our decision to plan it in three and a half months, so perhaps we have brought this on ourselves. Of course, planning a wedding in such a short amount of time means lots of stress.

Anyone who has had the intense pain pleasure of planning a wedding knows that it breeds stress in levels unknown to most folks that have never been in this position. As of this week, my stress has started to manifest itself in tears. It's not even the actual planning of the wedding that makes me cry. It is other external factors. Oh, someone posted an article about an abandoned dog? SOB. That commercial about the three-day breast cancer walk? SOB SOB SOB. I lost a motion that I should have won? SOB (SCREEEAM) SOB (and please don't tell anyone else I cried over a motion. Please.)

Yes, part of it is my lack of sleep. I truly believe that if I had a pensieve like Dumbledore (my FIRST Harry Potter reference...so excited!) and could take those troublesome thoughts out of my head, I would be able to rest at night. For now, it's all thoughts of wedding stuff. Before all of this, I swore that this wedding would not consume me. Now, here I am, all-consumed. The one thing that helps me out is knowing that as of May 1, it'll just be me and him, and the wedding will be dunzo. Hooooray. He will be my P.I.C. officially. Although, I feel that to commemorate this event, I should reflect his status change with a nick-name change. Any suggestions?

For now, can you please refrain from sending me any darling forwards that might reference abandoned puppies? Can you please not discuss any sort of tragedy in my presence? Most of all, pretty please with sugar on top, can you please not say that I am now a Virgo and not a Libra??? I really appreciate it.

Or if you can make me a wizard and provide me with a pensieve. That would work too.

Date has been set.

It is officially official. P.I.C. and I have set the date for our wedding. We chose a nice short engagement of three and a half months.

Yeah.

The insanity begins. Photographer. DJ. Food. Cake. Tables. Decoration. Cake. Booze. Cake. Invitations. Cake. Booze. Ya know, the important stuff.

Oh. And I have to go dress shopping. Honestly, I suspect that I am the least enthused of all women to try on and obtain my wedding gown. Barf. I'd rather have someone say "here, wear this." Oh, and not have to pay $1,000 for it. That too. However, shop for a gown I shall.

Maybe I will get something like this:

Oh, hi. It's me. Me and my understated and exceedingly elegant bridal gown. Of course, my bridesmaids' dresses parallel the elegance of mine. BRIDE 4 LIFE.

NOT. (OK, I know this is not what people say anymore, but I tend to appreciate a good "NOT" joke. So bring it.)

P.I.C. is so cute. I was whining about trying on dresses the other day. His response? "Well, don't you get to drink champagne and wine and stuff? That shouldn't be too bad." Bless his heart, he knows how to aim for my weak spots. Why do you think I am wearing this ring?

HAHAHAH. Just kidding. I love him. Which is why we are getting married. Not because I want a wedding. Because honestly? The wedding just seems to be a pain in the ass right now.

I shall now take ten minutes and look at my designated Zen photo:

That's better.