The Frozen Southerner

Perhaps it’s a testament to age, or maybe simply a nod to past celebrations celebrated too fully – ifyaknowwhatimean – but this year, the redhead and I decided to ring in the new year in subdued fashioned. We traded dressy duds for PJs, and we planted ourselves firmly on the couch. We indulged ourselves in the mind candy that is the day-long marathon of The Twilight Zone. (Only one of the best. shows. EVER.) We drank cocktails, and, probably as a result of those cocktails, we engaged in the true American pastime of watching Youtube’s finest clips, alternately laughing hysterically and sobbing (Ok, the sobbing was all me.). What? You didn’t spend your NYE watching Caine’s Arcade? Psshh.

At midnight, we toasted with champagne and shared a kiss. Then, because we’re old geezers, we curled up in bed.

Greetings, 2013. I look forward to what you have in store.

Directions to where you can find me making commentary from time to time:
http://thecontraryone.tumblr.com/

Now that I’ve emerged alive, (mostly) intact and more than just a little emotionally drained on the other side of this whole wedding business, I’m bursting with so much to share. Our wedding was incredible – an honest-to-goodness real-life fairytale (Cue eyerolls now. It’s ok. I know; it’s sickening).

Incredibly enough, for having planned this whole shindig from 900 miles away, it went off with hardly a hitch. Now, it wouldn’t be a wedding if there weren’t something in the way of hitches (Hitches! Ha! How amusing. Get it? Since we were rendezvousing for the purpose of getting hitched…har har har). And hitches there were. There was the flat tire. There was the night we were starving and desperately wanted Moe’s and even though the GPS told us there was a Moe’s right under our nose (I’m a poet. I know it. Don’t be jealous.) we couldn’t find it anywhere. There was the fender bender in the parking lot of Lowe’s in the brand new vehicle. There was the boutonniere I forgot to crochet for my husband (whoops). There was the mixup with some of the girls about where we were getting our nails done and that meant we were all getting our nails done at the same time … in completely different places. There was the clasp that came off of a bridesmaid dress and needed to be emergency sewn at the last minute. There was the bridesmaid bouquet flower that fell off the stem and had to be emergency doctored back to life.

But that stuff, that’s the stuff of good stories now. Moments that gave levity to and simultaneously grounded that time in safekeeping forever. Moments that made me realize how wonderfully wild this whole thing really was.

Then there’s the good stuff. Well, there’s just not really words to properly convey just how good the good stuff was. Our rehearsal was a frenzied, frantic whirlwind of bellowed orders. A flurry of excitement and confusion and seeing faces I hadn’t seen in ages. It was the first time everything became real. And following the practicing of vows, we had the most delectably tasty and conversation-filled evening among friends at our favorite Italian restaurant. Perfectly seasoned sauces and succulent noodles and bread dipped in oils and spices and wine and delectable dessert. A bacchanalian fantasy.

And then there was the day. The day. I spent the night in a hotel room with my sister, and I pretended it was just a sleepover. The next morning I work up with thoughts whirring around in my head and an inability to concentrate on any one of them. We went to the salon where stylists transformed our hair into lovely pieces of artwork atop our heads. We went to the church and pulled on our dressy duds – mine a little crisper, a little whiter, a little poofier than anyone else’s. And I watched the hands on the clock tick by. Until the moment I got to walk down, arm in arm with my father, toward my handsome redhead.

I have to be honest: I didn’t think being married would feel all that different. But it does; it really, really does. I have a Mrs. in front of my name now. I share a last name with the man I love. We share an insurance plan and the title of a recently-purchased car. I feel irrevocably, beautifully attached to someone else. And not just someone else, not just anyone – my best friend. I know, I know, this is all super corny. But I just thought I’d share. That, you know, I feel different.

I worried life post-wedding (which I unabashadly dubbed Wedding Spectacular 2011) would feel less full. I worried I would be sad that all these months of planning – and I do so love planning! – were finally over. I worried I’d feel remorseful as the uniquely sweet chapter in my life of being engaged came to a close. I worried there would be a letdown.

Let me tell you, there’s no letdown. I got to plan a wedding – simultaneously the most fun and most stressful task I’ve ever taken on. I got to see that wedding come to fruition. I got to spend a weekend with my favorite people in this universe. And, best of all, I got to marry my favorite redhead. He’s mine all mine. There’s no letdown. Following the most exhilarating, most exhausting weekend of my life, I got to drive 1,000 miles back home with my husband. I get to wake up each day and work on our marriage. The wedding planning may be over. But the marriage building will never be. And for that, I am oh-so-grateful.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap. The realization that the big day is almost here is setting in. I keep checking the little countdown of the remaining days on our knot.com site, and I get all giddy with excitement because it hits me that we’re in the home stretch now. As if I didn’t have a mental countdown going on in my head at all times!

Our days have been filled with tallying up RSVP numbers and working on finalizing our total headcount. I’ve been crocheting the last of the wedding yarn projects. I’ve been tying lots of ribbons. (What’s the deal with that anyway? What is it about weddings that dictates the presence of a bajillion ribbons?) I’ve been making what I swear is my last stop to Michael’s and Joann craft stores every week or so. I might be going again today. I’m pretty sure this time will be the last time. (Pssh, who am I kidding?) I’ve been corresponding with my dear friend MJD about the wedding programs, which she’s lending her incredible talents to.

I’ve had so many different thoughts swirling around in my head at once – I didn’t think it was possible to think about so many things at one time! But let me assure you, it’s possible. At any given moment, I’m probably thinking something like this: What’s the cake going to taste like?/Are my heels going to be comfortable?/Will we have enough food variety for dinner?/Oh, crap, what am I going to wear to the rehearsal?/Have I tied all the ribbons?/What the heck did I decide my something blue would be?/Necklace and bracelet? Just necklace? Just bracelet?

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.