we can be immortal in 2015

Yesterday, I found two pennies in the early morning.

Last night, Aaron and I watched the ball drop, drank champagne, and kissed at midnight–and we completed the American winter holiday trifecta for the first time in over 2.5 years.

Today, I helped him pack and move stuff over to my apartment, to commence living in the world’s greatest Tetris game.

Tonight, I’m either miserably PMSing or coming down with a virus. The jury is still out.

Last night, tightly spooned between my loving, affectionate fiance and loving, affectionate cat, my brain spun at a hundred miles an hour on wedding ideas. On ways to not try to be someone I’m not. On ways to not need someone more feminine to hold my hand. On ways to be proud of our efforts and not fitfully hoping that it’s good enough.

No wedding is “good enough.” Absolutely none are perfect, but they’re never “good enough” either. Not only can you not please everyone, but someone will always think you’re cheap or tacky or trying too hard or putting on a circus.

We reworded part of the invitations and can ask for recipe cards; I can have purple ribbon in my hair and a fake bouquet of bright purple flowers and make my own dangly purple earrings that don’t cost $100. Aaron talked to his dad last night and his dad, who photographs for the pure love of photography, is happy for us to meet him in Kentucky, somewhere scenic like Mammoth Cave National Park or South Fork River, and do a portrait shoot sometime after the wedding.

I talked to my mom tonight, showed her pictures of my dress and my rhinestone belt. She said that if I found rhinestones that I liked, she could glue them to my billowing, overwhelmingly white skirt and give me some color and sparkle. She’s found a dozen or more wine glasses and champagne flutes that she’s sealing with glitter to serve as center pieces and toasting glasses and pen holders. She gave me advice on stores to go to in order to find these things for cheap.

I don’t want to say that I have a vision, but I have a comfort level and a personality, and I think I’m–we’re–I’m–settling on something closer to it, something that’s not being crammed into a tiny-budget box and just dealing with it. Where I can feel like me and not a pretender. Like I’m the boss of it, and it’s not the boss of me.

Never let your wedding be the boss of you.

Last updated January 01, 2015