Why I started taking Ativan again.

We’re five weeks out and the wedding planning has shifted into high gear. This is the easy answer to why I haven’t been writing lately. The perhaps more honest, definitely uglier reason is that I only have stressed out, borderline-Bridezilla things to write.

The good: I had the final fitting for my dress. It is amazing. I also had a run-through for my hair, and it, too, is amazing.

The bad: I am still coming to terms with the fact that maybe I shouldn’t attempt to host a day-after brunch for out-of-town family since we’re still living in a hobo camp with no real furniture. Or if I do, I need to accept that it will mean seating people in the garage, and cleaning out the garage might be more than I can handle right now.

The ugly: The RSVPs.

Oh, sistah.

My Guy’s aunt can’t come because one of her grandsons has a guitar solo in a junior high band concert the night of the wedding. She’s really torn up about it, but the junior high concert won out.

But the first RSVP my mom opened? Was from that aunt’s son. It was an RSVP for himself, his wife, and their three children. Three children whose names were not on the envelope because they aren’t invited because at $50 a head, we’re not inviting kids. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you can perform at a junior high band concert and attend a wedding simultaneously.

I told My Guy he needed to address the situation. He looked at me and said he couldn’t think about it right now, but maybe we should have been clearer on the invitations. This suggestion had me dousing our house in gasoline, lighting a cigarette, tossing the match, and then walking away all slow like, just like in the movies.

Umm, also? I think I might have said that only white trash don’t know that the names listed on the envelope are the only people invited. Which might mean that I inadvertently referred to his kin as white trash.


Help me. Tell me something besides “calm the fuck down.” Tell me it’s worth it, tell me what got you through this insanity. Don’t tell me to elope. Because much like rewording the invites*? That ship has sailed.

* Also? What sort of invitation wording would that be, anyway? “We request the honor of your presence – but just you, not your damned kids – as we vow our undying love to each other – but just to each other, definitely not to your damned kids.”

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