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May 2008
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March 2008 ArchivesThe bridal proofs are in! Any pain I endured was not evident until the very end of the photo session, where not even the gloriousness of the 5:30 p.m. sun could make my half-wince beautiful (maybe Matt would disagree - maybe he is required to do so). Obviously I can't post any pictures of the dress or me, so here is one of my mini bouquet from that day.
When I tell my friends I'm having my wedding outside in August, I can almost see them thinking of a way to kill me and make it look like an accident. But I'm not a sadist, people. I'm providing fans. Yay! Instead of traditional programs that will more than likely become impromptu wind-making devices for our wedding guests anyway, I've taken out the middle man and had my programs printed on fun little fans on sticks! (It's at this point that I have to admit that this, too, was my mother's idea. It's not as though I have a dearth of activity in my own head, rather I have a ... Four hours: That's how long it took to complete part 1 of the invitation assembly process. I should have roped in a bored bridesmaid to help, but I feel too guilty asking for anything this far in advance of the wedding. Look at that! I took that picture on my cell just so I could send it to Matt with a, "Aren't you glad you're NOT here?" message. Those little bands did not come folde... Saturday afternoon was the runthru, the dress rehearsal -- the bridal portrait. The hair was OK (not exactly what I imagined), the makeup passed the longevity test (Cinthia Moore rocks!), and I only snapped at my poor mother six to 10 times (sorry mom). But the unpleasant surprise at the end of a two-hour photo shoot in Hermann Park: dozens of cat-like scratches on my legs. The culprit: my petticoat! If you find a reception venue with gorgeous chairs, you’ve lucked out.
This might be understandable if they were frosty chocolate milkshakes, but they are not. I'm not sure if his desire to imbibe floating candles and decorative river rocks is a dramatic cry for help or just another indication of how far I've sojourned into the realm of bridal madness.
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