by Melody Bowen
Bubbles, Butterflies, Leaf Blowers, & My Sweet Babboo
Alrighty. OK, so I'm engaged now. To Ned (I promise not to call him "My Sweet Babboo" in public. Promise.). Engaged. Which is wonderful, fabulous, phenomenal! Which means we're getting married. (Imagine that!) Married. Which means there's going to be a wedding. A wedding. Which means we have to plan a wedding. A wedding.
Um... plan a wedding?
We have to plan a wedding.
We have to plan a wedding. Ummmm.... Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
OK, we've only been engaged for a few days now (five, actually), and I already have in my possession two -- count them, two! -- full-fledged bridal magazines chock full of advice and wedding gowns and jewelry and tuxes and cakes of various shapes and sizes. I've discovered that I can not only purchase little napkins with our names and our wedding date on them, but I can also purchase any or all of the following items: "just married" flip-flops, "bride and groom" t-shirts, miniature Hershey bars with our names on them, custom bottles of bubbles (as alternatives to throwing rice or birdseed), dried rose petals, "tears of joy" handkerchiefs that look like little bridal gowns and tuxedos, glycerine soaps that look like glass slippers for the reception restrooms, or live monarch butterflies (shipped in refrigerated packaging via FedEx overnight) for a live butterfly release on our wedding day. (A friend of a friend actually did a butterfly release at her wedding and was sad to discover that by the time they were released at least half of them were dead. When I mentioned this to Ned, he said that maybe they should have just scooped 'em up and then used a leaf blower to "simulate" the butterfly release, making sort of a makeshift "butterfly cannon". I nearly wet my pants laughing. I know, I know -- sick, but hilarious.)
But I digress. At any rate, looking through all these bridal magazines and talking over all the possibilities for wedding plans has already become a bit of a daunting task. Suddenly I'm confronted with tons of questions: Where will we do it? When will we do it? How many guests should we invite? How many will show up? Daytime or evening? Formal, semi-formal, informal, not-at-all formal? Tuxes or suits? Bridesmaids? Groomsmen? None of the above? Which colors will I choose? Do I have to invite the *entire* family? Even the crazy ones? (Kidding. Sort of.) How do I prepare for the inevitable disasters, like someone getting drunk and falling into the three-tiered wedding cake ? Do we hire a band? A DJ? Neither? Do we have a small wedding and a big reception? Do we have a big wedding and a small reception? Do we get married here? Nashville? Another state? Another country? Do we have to have a rehearsal dinner? Do we have to have a rehearsal at all? Do I have to invite the entire crazy family? (Wait, I said that already, right?)
Just choosing the right apparal is daunting enough! What sort of dress should I wear? If I choose the wrong dress, will I look like a walrus trying to squeeze into a tutu? What if it's too tight and I bend over and split it up the rear and moon all the guests? (Or even worse, what if the photographer catches a *photo* of me mooning the guests?) If I go casual, will I be mistaken for the caterer instead of the bride? Or if I go more formal, will one of my family members (strike that -- that should actually read "will one of my friends...") sidle up to me sipping a cocktail, lift one eyebrow and say incredulously, "Oh, my gawwwwd... you're wearing white?"
Just the prospect of planning this wedding and making the wrong choices or going overboard with cutesy crap (like live monarch butterflies) makes me want to run naked and shrieking down the street like a deranged lunatic. Is it inevitable that, as "the bride", I must immediately become a "crazy bride" and leap off the deep end, immersing myself in searches for ecru spun silk fabric or candles scented like lilacs or just the right marzipan frosting for our giant banjo-shaped wedding cake? Do I immediately have to become unable to hold a conversation with another human being without regaling them with stories about caterers and hand-lettered-versus-printed wedding invitations? I don't have to become one of those-kinds-of-brides, right? Those-kinds-of-brides are the ones who make everyone crazy until the moment they say "I do" and end up not speaking to any family members for six months after her nuptials, and never speak to a single one of her 16 bridesmaids again.
I vow here and now not to become one of those-kinds-of-brides. Nope, nope, nope. I vow to keep my sanity. To have common sense. To plan a beautiful but simple wedding. Somewhere. At some time. With some sort of color scheme. And some sort of dress... and perhaps some pretty invitations... and maybe a beautiful cake with marzipan frosting... and... (Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop the insanity before it begins!)
(You know, I think even if her Sweet Babboo had proposed to her, even bright-eyed, optimistic little Sally could have been driven to madness quite easily, no?)