At long last, someone FINALLY got around to snarkily asking me if I'm really getting married this time. In that "oh, man, have I been looking forward to this!" way that people get when they think, wow, they really have you this time and you're going to feel like such an idiot now. I'm sure you can imagine the kind of smile she had when she said it. All surface politeness and venom.
People who know me may be surprised to know that the word Fuck did not appear in my answer, as in "why the fuck would you even think that was an appropriate thing to say?" I was good, and just smiled and then seethed quietly for about two minutes before I got distracted, and forgot about it until this morning, when I was able to just shake my head while rolling my eyes. And I drank a decent supply of red wine last night, so I was especially happy I could do those things at 9:00 on a Saturday morning when I needed to get over to church to fold palm crosses for tomorrow.
Feh. Still, that's the first shitty comment that I've gotten. A while back, I went through a little time of being freaked out about doing the big public wedding after previously backing out of having a big public wedding, because honestly I thought that the general reaction was going to mirror that snarky comment from last night. So in a way it was kind of nice to finally get the snark that I knew I had coming to me, and to not especially care.
We are in fact having a wedding. A big old, full-metal Episcopal wedding with a church full of people (note to self - mailing out the invitations would help this happen) all yelling "We will!!" when TheRev asks who will support this couple in their marriage. Followed by a party with tapas and sangria and a giant cake made by Ryan and Leigh, who have been at Cake Decorating Boot Camp in Chicago for the past two weeks. Because my friends really do rock like big rocking things about which people often say, "that rocks!"
Not everyone is going to like our wedding, to which I say...yeah, whatever. Ok, I don't say that, but I desperately want to be a person who says that so that I will not make the Dennis insane for the next 42 days and nights.
I vacillate between thinking that everything wedding-related is fabulous and under control, and thinking that this tulle-wrapped handbasket is picking up speed in the luge ride to hell. It just seems like such a giant to-do list, you know?
Dennis is being entirely wonderful and taking care of most of the domestic bits so that I can focus on the stuff I need to do, and we're just really excited about getting to marry each other. The details will come together, or else they'll get tossed. Next up, I have Holy Week to deal with.
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