A few nights ago I began reading Ann Lamott's Bird by Bird. Those of you who've read it know the point of the book is that writing is hard and that it takes actual work to accomplish something. It's also about how you can write and even get published but you're probably not going to be getting rich off of it. For the moment I am ignoring that last part. I am absolutely certain that I will be wildly rich someday.
Wisely, Miss Lamott emphasizes that you should write a little bit every single day. I haven't been doing that, and I thought it best if I started here.
You all may (or may not) be wondering what the hell is going on over here in soon-to-be-married land. Last you heard I was writing a new book, I bought and elliptical and I have been rearranging the apartment. Oh, and planning a wedding. The long version of the story goes on and on about the little details and mishaps and how I have stopped using the elliptical (for now) because I have been spending my weekends away from said redecorated apartment (but fully intend to return to my exercise next week or something), the research on the book is moving forward and yet I am still fairly blocked in the actual writing department and that my sister is a veritable saint and the best matron of honor EVER. The short version is this: I hate wedding planning, its stressin' me the fuck out and I wish we had just eloped.
I think that anyone who has never planned a wedding (or has someone footing the bill) thinks it's amazing and blissful. Without getting into the nitty gritties of why I will just say that I hate it. I normally love throwing parties but there are so many opinions that are involved in weddings that it almost feels out of my control. I just want to play with the flowers and make things look pretty. I don't want to worry about seating charts or welcome bags for the guests or all of the little things that are really wonderful little details that make a wedding memorable. (For the record I made the boy deal with the seating charts and opted out of doing welcome bags.)
Financially it's a nightmare for me, too. I am a shitty saver, I'll admit that, but it's even worse when every day that comes seems to bring some new little expense. If it's not extra flowers, it's extra chairs or extra booze. It's that face plant when I remember "OH SHIT we need a port-o-potty!". Our tent isn't big enough so we have to hope it doesn't rain because the next size up is another 100 dollars. I would LOVE to get a manipedi but absolutely cannot justify the cost, knowing that we are also going to be throwing a cocktail before (I insisted on it) and a brunch after (He insisted on it). In my mind it's all just money. Money we don't have, money we could use to buy a whole other car or use to fix the one that we have.
Now, before you dive for comment box, I'll tell you that it's really not that bad. I just thought it would be a lot more fun. And I was also completely delusional that I could have my "dream wedding" for under three grand.
The worst part is this: Once I've talked myself out of stressing over details that no one will notice anyway, and remind myself that we do have enough money and everything is going to be OKAY, I still go home to an empty apartment. The Boy is still in France. We've been apart now for over two months - the longest we've been apart ever - and it's been terrible. Someday, I am sure, we will relish the precious moments we are apart where I don't have to wash his underwear and he doesn't have to listen to me complain about being fat, but for now it just sucks.
We're very close to the end of the visa process. So close, in fact, that he went to the US Embassy yesterday. We thought this was his convocation - where he would turn over his passport - and I got so excited thinking that there was the slimmest possibility that he would be coming home early. I have been trying to be nothing but positive as the days passing bring us closer and closer to THE BIG DAY and he still doesn't have a plane ticket. I have been succeeding, actually. Yesterday I couldn't, though, when The Boy told me our lawyer had fucked up and they had been turned away at the door. He didn't actually have an appointment, that must have been some other visa and we are going to have to come back another day.
Another day. Next week (if we are lucky). One week closer to the wedding.
"You should probably think about postponing the wedding, if you can," said our lawyer.
"Oh no. No no no. We can't do that," I replied.
Of course we can do that, if we really have to, but Oh My God people, I get so sick thinking that I might have to cancel my wedding when all of these people are flying in. Around fifty of the sixty-some-odd people who are coming are from out of town, but mostly are from out of state or out of country and here I am being told I "should probably think of postponing it"? I think I sprouted a whole new patch of gray hairs yesterday morning.
I am angry. I am angry at the process and at all of the people I call who simply cannot tell me one damn thing about how long we could have left (is it two weeks or four?). I am angry at the United States of America for making this process so damn difficult for people who are trying to be legal immigrants, who plan on getting jobs and paying taxes and not milking the system. I am a livid at our lawyer who has known for six months now that our wedding has been planned for September 3rd and yet never once thought it prudent to mention that that might just be too soon. I am angry at him for being so unfocused on any once case that he had my fiance take a train for four hours to Paris (at the pretty price of 170 euros round trip) just so that he could be humiliated and turned away at the doors of the embassy. I can't wrap my head around how this could happen - isn't that why you hire assistants? Meanwhile we are at a standstill.
It doesn't do any good to tell me to "not stress about it" (believe me, The Boy has tried) and I am well aware it doesn't help anything and there is nothing we can do and we will get married anyway but, well, the thing is now that I have committed to this pain-in-my-ass wedding I am sort of attached to it and so being forced to elope seems like deflating the dream. For all I have bitched and moaned I can't wait to hold my husband's hand in front of all the people we love, have a first dance in under the twinkling trees, say our toasts, laugh and cry with all our family and friends. I want to wear my dress. I want our wedding day, people.
Whew. And now I've vented.
We have twenty-four days before the proposed day. That's almost a month still! In the interest of self preservation I am going to keep believing that this whole thing is going to be pulled off just in the nick of time. I am going to sleep a lot. The Boy has strongly urged me to start using that evil elliptical again. My bachelorette party is happening this weekend and then -Op! Viola! - He will magically have his visa and be on a flight home to me. This is going to happen. It's going to happen because IT HAS TO HAPPEN.
But - my dearest readers - We could really use your prayers and positive energy over here. If you don't mind.
