Ok, so it's just a wedding, and although Martha Stewart has programmed us to think it has to be *just so*, it's actually just a day when the love-pumpkin and I promise to each other that we'll be faithful and true. While other people watch. And though I wish I had endless time to make thousands of little paper boxes or a personalized stamp on everyone's "favor" gift of a bag of grits, I don't really care if this turns out to be the wedding of the season. Like any woman alive, if I had unlimited money and time and the ability to do whatever I wanted, I would probably put together an amazing celebration that all the attendees would talk about for years.
However, three things:
1) The most beautiful wedding I have ever been to, a stunning, romantic, unforgettable event, sealed a relationship that has already ended with the divorce of the couple. Less than five years.
2) The most horrible wedding I have ever been to - and I base this judgment partly on the fact that none of the participants looked as if they were enjoying it, not merely that I didn't enjoy it - produced a marriage that is still going strong, producing children and making the couple happy like a pair of clams.
3) No matter what happens, at least one attendee will be bored and not like it. No matter what. The numerical odds are too high.
That being said, the butternut squash and I are going to have a beautiful wedding, and I am happy we're getting married. We started some pre-marital counseling this week, and it made me realize how lucky I am/we are. My sugarfoot was willing but less that thrilled - why call the repair guy if nothing is broken? was his analysis. I countered with the concept of getting medical screens to prevent problems before they become fatal. My pigeon said as long as the therapist was hot, he'd be fine. After rolling my eyes, I explained I preferred to refer to this experience as "counseling" because I didn't want to imply I believed something was wrong that we needed to fix.
Both a little nervous, we braved a winter storm to head off to counseling.
The first thing our undeniably hot counselor asked was, "So, what brings you to therapy?"
I should have seen the smirk from across the room - my word jammer was thinking a) this woman is hot, and b) see, it IS called therapy.
Anyway, the process should be interesting, and I don't plan to detail it from now on, but the whole evening made me think, hey, I know this man pretty well, and I trust him. I know we aren't perfect (there are stories, some of them already on here somewhere) and our relationship isn't everyone's dream, but it makes me really happy, and bonzo really happy.
When asked, how would you characterize the relationship, what leapt to mind was, "Well, there's a lot of snuggling."
I've been doing a lot of venting and complaining here, and sometimes I miss the chance to remind myself how lucky I am.
Also, I watched Teen Witch last night, and who can resist that?
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