Those closest to me know of my affection (obsession??) for all things perfect when it comes to paper products. I am a meticulous scrapbooker. I celebrate college-ruled paper with a side of medium-point ballpen. My handwriting, however, was once likened to "ancient scribble-scrabble," but I like it! No one can forge my signature; most people can't read past "Adri."

But I'm concerned that chicken-scratch is finally going to haunt me! I was not about to drop $500 on a calligrapher, and I figured my normal letters get where they need to go, so why not me? Also, fellow bride-to-be and ex-copy editor Mandy W. told me that she read you should write everything yourself. She even wrote the RETURN address, shaming me. My lazy-butt got it printed for an extra $25. At least when invites get returned because the postmaster couldn't read it, they'll go to my parents, right?

Ohh I'm sure that's not really going to happen, but I am worried Matt's family is going to recoil in horror when they see I've turned the "r" in their name into a w, n or m. What does my handwriting say about me? That I'm messy? (I am super* clean.) Does it say I am a stressed woman? (Desktops at Tomball High School are forever scarred because I press down so hard on paper, China trembles.)

Whatever, it's too late. A sea of ecru is flowing over the United States; one droplet is floating to Germany. I can't stop them now: I heard it's a federal offense to mess with a mailbox. If only I knew any lawyers ...

This weekend is Catholic marriage prep. We have to bring a dessert. I am bringing my famous remake of the Doubletree chocolate chip cookies. Maybe I should have just mailed cookies out with a post-it that said, "Come to our wedding for more cookies."

*Sweet Bex may disagree with the "super" part.