Serenity Now

I think I decided the really important things in my life long before the situation arose… before I knew *if* the situation would arise.  I named my baby Alexander long before I met his father.  I also had plans for other things.  The thing is, some those things are in Indiana and I am not. Things that seemed like a good idea at the time just aren't as attractive anymore.  Getting married is an easy thing to do.  This wedding business is completely different story.

 

In fifth grade, I just KNEW that Mrs. McQueary was going to sing Schubert's Ave Maria at my wedding.  I've recently Googled the woman to no avail.  I don't know if I'm spelling her name correctly.  I think if I found her, I'd fly her to Texas to sing.

 

When I was working at from the Glen Park Bakery, I saw the most perfect stacked wedding cake with blue flowers.  Sadly, they've gone out of business.  My Tía Jesusa is a master cake decorator.  She's retired now.  She got rid of all her cake pans after she made her final cake for Alex last year.  I'm not worried about finding a cake.  There are roughly fifty thousand bakeries in the metroplex, but I had that image in my head, you know?  

 

Is it wrong to want the wedding party to all be in All Stars?  Somehow I don't think Juana will go for it.

 

After watching Steel Magnolias 15-20 times, I assumed that everyone had bleeding armadillo groom's cake.  I knew I'd have one.  I finally looked up what the hell a groom's cake is because such things don't exist in Indiana.  It's a gift from the bride to the groom.  Yes!  I get to pick!  It was remarkably easy to find.  However, it won't be blood-red velvet cake.  My Honey wants chocolate and that's cool.

 

I have to find somewhere to hold this shindig.  I have no clue.  None.  I haven't even been to a place that I think would be good.  I don't know what to do about food.  I vacillate between having a full-service dinner, getting Subway party platters and hiring a Mexican to grill burgers.  I think Carl would cater it back home, but I don't even have a way to contact him, if I were going back to Indiana, which I'm not.  I'm sorry…The caterer wants how much for food?  Do we have to feed them?   Think it will matter if I serve enough beer? 

 

Part of being ghetto/ being a Region Rat/ living in the Greater Chicagoland Viewing Area is having-the-hook-up, knowing-a-guy, and being able to call on my-buddy-over-at-the-flea-market, my friend's step-dad or a whole slew of people who are more than willing to help out for $20 and some of my mom's tamales come Christmas.  I've lost my connections.  I don't like it.

 

Now, I don't actually need my connections.  I'm a grown-up (kinda sorta sometimes).  I am capable of researching and planning.  Still.   I'm dying here.  Every time I figure out how much something is going to cost, I don't want to do it.   No worries, folks.  I'll get this together and I will feed you.  Chris will anyway cuz my ass is broke.   Please stick with me as I obsess and worry.  Beginnings can be rough, but it will be fabulous in the end.  Right?