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OUR WEDDING JOURNAL May 4 Can someone please explain why men insist on Bachelor Parties? Doug's been huddled over his email, planning his little bacchanal for weeks. I've promised not to ask too many questions. So when I finally was able to break into his computer, imagine my surprise when I read that he and his "buddies" were planning to board a merchant marine ship bound for Shanghai. Something about opium dens, gun smuggling and open-sea piracy. I've made him promise not to come back with tattoos or a case of scurvy. I don't want to go through that again. Boys. — MS April 24 I woke up on Wednesday wild-eyed from dreaming of 150 hungry guests rushing at us after the vows. "Canapés!" they shouted. "Must...have...brain canapés!" I swear I'm never staying up late to watch another zombie movie. The nightmare was well-timed, though. As implausible as it may seem, it hadn't dawned on us that we might need food at the wedding. A quick check of our "Aisle Do!" wedding guide confirmed that this was indeed the case. With some fast talking, we were able to persuade Sausages-N-Such to do the catering. I'm proud to say that it's among the top kielbasa restaurants in L.A. Or it will be, once it gets its Board of Health license back. Crisis averted. — DF April 16 We've been making the rounds of bakeries this week, armed with piles of mood-conveying magazine clippings and lop-sided sketches of the perfect wedding cake. Mostly the bakers just laugh at us. Tastings are the hardest. I never thought I'd see Doug turn down cake, but after his 11th slice of orange-nutmeg pound cake with lemon curd filling and raspberry fondant, even he was starting to wear down. As for me, I haven't slept for days due to my permanent sugar-high. At least the apartment is getting clean. P.S. Late-breaking bad news. Mr. Peanuts, the capuchin monkey we hired as our ring-bearer, has been signed to direct the next Adam Sandler movie and won't be able to make the wedding. Filthy ape. — MS April 7 This morning Marj woke me up with a two-months-and-counting warning shot. Lord knows where she got the pistol—I don't remember it being on the registry. Having survived that, it seemed like a good time to take a moment to seriously reflect on the wedding experience thus far. I recently had an epiphany. Popular wisdom says that men fear commitment. Not so. In truth, men fear wedding planning and will do almost anything to avoid it. Hannibal crossed the Alps rather than debate the wording of his wedding invitations; the construction of the Panama Canal was a transparent excuse for thousands of workers to avoid meeting with the florist. Thank goodness I have this website. At the time, I thought the getting-to-know-you of our early dates was difficult (Marj: "You call THAT music? Jackhammers are more tuneful." Me: "Um, they don't play the jackhammers until the next song."). Tough, sure, but child's play next to finding silverware we both like. Or making hard decisions about handpuppets. But if you make it through everything with relationship intact, I figure you've earned a fair shot at happiness. — DF March 29 We've moved from planning to actually purchasing, and I think Doug is finally starting to appreciate the advantages of marrying an Iranian. Just today I managed to "negotiate" a "special" deal with the invitation printer, the fabric seller, the baker, the florist, the jeweler, the basket-weaver, a man who sells hand-painted electrical outlet covers (with glitter!) and a 3-foot tall juggler of chainsaws—all of whom turned out to be fellow countrymen! I love LA. Of course we didn't really need the baskets, but they were willing to give us such a discount that they were impossible to turn down. And with the aid of a little hot glue and some creative flair, I'm hoping to turn them into stunning headpieces for my bridesmaids. Fabulous! — MS March 14 With the wedding only 3 months away, we're entering planning crunch time. Marj has taken to drinking, usually starting as soon as she wakes up. I can hardly blame her, although I do wish she'd leave a shot or two for me. Still, this is a glorious time for us both, bringing our relationship to a new level. Only yesterday we "explored our feelings" about silver napkin rings. After 3 hours of "exploring" we finally agreed that neither of us really wanted silver napkin rings, anyway. Marj feels badly about the whole "exploration," but I assured her that the doctor will be able to remove the stitches from my forehead long before June 7th. — DF March 5 We're designing the invitations ourselves, and so far things are going well. The emphasis here is on creativity. We rejected a few early ideas as impractical: individual ice sculptures with the date engraved on the front, a short video of our wedding acted out by jolly little handpuppets, or flying a small team of singing waiters to deliver the invitation to each guest in song. All fine ideas, yet all too time-consuming to pull off. The brainstorming continues and I'm confident we'll come up with something good in the end. (Although Doug is still heartbroken about ditching the puppets.) — MS February 18 Venue-hunting this week, so we're driving all over California and upper Mexico to find the perfect place. Since we're both children of realtors (or "commorancy-adjutants" as they call them in Merrie Olde England), Marj and I are paying particular attention to "location, location, and location." And price. With that in mind, we've narrowed it down to either our friend Joe's apartment or the top floor of a parking garage. The apartment would be fine, but after cramming in 150 guests it would be tough clearing space for a dance floor. On the other hand, the parking garage has plenty of room and a great view of the shopping mall, but we wouldn't be able to have it exclusively for the length of the wedding. Having strangers driving across the aisle while looking for an open spot would be awkward, to say the least. Thank goodness my mom has agreed to jump in and help park cars. We're weighing the pros and cons and should have a decision in a few days. I CAN say that rumors of us having holding our wedding at a pancake house have been greatly exaggerated. IHOP wasn't available that weekend. — DF |
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