Day four, five, six, seven, eight of lying in bed and watching the hours melt into one another, no longer aware of what day of the week it is, nor day of the month. I only know that I have two more weeks of this to go before I am allowed to be active again.
I\’m taking anxiolytics, sedatives, painkillers, and doing deep breathing in an attempt to keep my cool. My mind is melting and I can\’t focus on reading or good film; I fall asleep or lose track of the plot. Instead, I\’m putting actual thought into wedding planning, which I hadn\’t really wanted to do. I was content to just find a place to have it (even if that my parents\’ McMansion\’s backyard), get a dress I like, and that would be it; if the family insists on attending, let them organize it. At the end of the day, or the next night, Matt and I are going to have an open bar, invite-only reception at the Palace with one band (friends who want to play) and djs (who have offered). But then it starts getting complicated.
A friend has offered to cater for free as long as we pay for the food; now I need to plan a menu. Friends are demanding to be allowed to be ushers and attendants, but we aren\’t having a wedding party so now we\’re thinking of having a \”wedding reenactment\” with Chris as the officiant at the friends reception. My aunt has laid claim on making the wedding cake (I just wanted an Edible Arrangements centerpiece), as well as making the dress (though I found a really pretty red with white Hawaiian print dress on eBay for $15). I\’m starting to understand why people freak about the pressure from friends and family to \”include them\” because they want to be helpful.
In the spirit of trying to make this all as po-mo (read: complicated, infuriating, and both more and less stressful in various ways) as possible, I\’ve named my Maid of Honor/ only female attendant, and therefore, Best Lady, Dr Maude\’s daughter. On one hand, I don\’t have to worry about making bridesmaids happy with their outfits (I told her she could pick out her dress; I don\’t care what it looks like as long as she likes it and it doesn\’t make her look like she\’s charging by the hour), on the other, Matt\’s best man\’s attendant is now a 15-year-old girl, which I guess is awkward for that person. On one hand, I don\’t have to worry about my MOH conspiring with my other female friends, my sister, and my mother to co-ordinate all those things I\’ve received a crash course in: the engagement party, the bridal shower, the hen party; on the other hand, should Matt and I decide any of those are go, I have to plan them myself. Sweet.
So I\’m trying to stick in little bits of things that\’ll keep me happy, here and there. Things I can get in under the radar. For example, I\’m walking down the aisle to a Four Tet solo album. My dress is going to be red. I\’m either going to be barefooted or in some sort of ballet flat (if I can ever find one I like). There aren\’t going to be any flowers except maybe a Bird of Paradise. And seeing as my grandfather can\’t walk on his own anymore and the stage IV cancer is still eating away, no one is walking me down the aisle; Matt, ex-sprog, the Best Man, and I will all walk together.
But the Four Tet, man, yeah, this year\’s album from Kieran Hebden with Steve Reid (Tongues). Yeah, I\’m walking down the aisle to that.
I gotta get out of this apartment. I\’m going ape shit loony tunes.
