Tilt a whirl

I picked up our rings at the jewelry store yesterday.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes it feels like we’re planning this fake wedding that will never actually happen, but the rings made it real. And soon—72 days. My grin almost broke my face. They are simple bands, with only a bit of finishing and filigree work. The saleslady clearly didn’t trust me, though—she didn’t want to let the rings go. “They’re safer here,” she told me. “Plus, you can get them engraved.” True and true. But we wanted them home. “Don’t leave them out somewhere visible,” she warned me. Because, you know, I was planning to leave them out on the front porch for all to see. That said, I still hid them in the house. Who am I to tempt fate?

Rehearsal dinner—done. Now we’re setting up various meetings with vendors and doing things like choosing linens and flowers. My mother is a gardener and so I asked her opinion on the flowers—mistake. As it turns out, my mother is in love with baby’s breath. She cannot comprehend a bouquet that does not include baby’s breath. I am flawed for not wanting baby’s breath in the floral arrangements. She is not, however, paying for the flowers so thankfully I get the last word on baby’s breath and that word is NO.

I am flailing a bit with Christmas this year. Usually I put a lot of effort into buying thoughtful gifts. Right now that’s translating into gift certificates because I have given up trying to decipher my family’s wish lists. Also, holidays + work stress + wedding planning = fried Moxie. Thankfully, my family is doing a delayed gift exchange closer to New Years so that gives me a little more time.