breathe in, laugh out

I haven’t blogged in a while.  I don’t think it’s for lack of things to talk about.  It’s more being pre-occupied by things like work travel, baby things, planning a wedding.  You know the old saying… how does it go?  First comes love, then comes the baby, then comes an engagement, then comes planning a freakin’ wedding while simultaneously trying to figure out how to raise a human which you’ve never done before, because we do nothing in the traditional order?

Wedding planning makes my brain hurt.  This is not my forte.  I’m not a real planner in my personal life, and I’m not terribly organized.  My friends have stepped in and set deadlines for me, made me documents with bullet points, given me first-hand advice.  I love them very much for it.  I’m wondering why they’re not just doing it for me and also paying for it all.  Isn’t that what friends do?  No?

We started this whole process with, “We don’t want a traditional wedding.  We just want something small and casual… a good ‘ole pig roast backyard party.”

• Our backyard is not big enough
• I love pigs.  But I love them when they’re alive and running around.  I don’t want a dead one on a stick in my backyard

So let’s start with “our backyard is not big enough.”  Ok cool, we can still have a “backyard feel.”  We will just keep it super simple, rent an Air BnB with a yard, and have a simple little party.

• Normal Air BnB’s don’t allow “events.”
• The ones that do allow events have a ridiculous surcharge which takes away the simple affordable “backyard party.”
• Say you pay this surcharge… you need to bring in EVERYTHING.
  • “Ehhhh we don’t really need tables and chairs.”
    • Friends:  “Well, yes, you kind of do.”

We scrapped the Air BnB “backyard party.”

Next, the pig.  I want a mini pig.  One that’s alive and I get to keep forever.

• Carissa tried to get me one as a wedding gift.
• Ginge said no.
• Why is Ginge the boss of my happiness?
• How can I convince him that Tacos needs a mini pig for his mental development?

This is the exact way my brain works while trying to stay on task with wedding planning.  It stops working.  Which is why I just realized I really haven’t planned anything at all, although I’ve been telling everyone for months, “oh yeah, it’s basically done.”

No, it’s not basically done.  Like not even a little bit.  Who knew there were so many things that needed to be coordinated to throw a damn party at a farm?  Not I.  People want COFFEE?  Who drinks coffee at night?  This is a whole extra service fee?  I have to rent coffee mugs now?  Why can’t I just bring my Keurig?

“Who’s going to “collect everything and bring it home at the end of the night?”  No one.  No one is.  It’s all going to stay there and we will worry about it the next day.  All of my guests better be drunk unless they’re pregnant.  In which case I wouldn’t be putting them to work “collecting things.”

“Who is going to coordinate the rehearsal and processional?”  Ummmm I don’t know… why isn’t that included with the farm, LINDY?  I have to hire a whole new person for this?  I told Ginge last night, “I mean I could just tell people when to start walking. I’m bossy.  It’s not that hard… but like, I’ll be in the back and I don’t really want to be barking orders.  I’M THE BRIDE… no actually I’m NOT doing that.  I take it back.  We need to hire someone to tell people when to walk.”

“Courtney, that’s ridiculous.”

I know it is!  It’s all ridiculous.  The whole damn thing is ridiculous.  I just want to stand up there, tell you how wonderful you are sometimes, vow to never cheat on you and run away in the middle of the night while stealing your golf clubs, give you a big ole smooch, and then go parttttayyyyyy… but if you’ve ever planned a wedding, maybe you can relate.  As “simple” as you try to keep it, it somehow all finds a way of snowballing.  I’ve realized all of these little things I keep saying “I don’t give a crap about that,”  …. our guests who are traveling across the country just may give a crap about.  Just because I don’t want dessert doesn’t mean I can deprive everyone else of dessert?  Weird.

Against some suggestions from friends I decided EVERYTHING, including RSVPs will be done via our website.  They warned me, “People aren’t going to go to your website.  They won’t know how to do it.  You’ll be fishing individually for RSVPs.”  I didn’t listen.  I typed every single name into the website and will be having people RSVP that way.  I sent my future sister-in-law the link early, before invitations went out.

She sent me a screenshot of her laptop when she tried to RSVP.  I spelled her first AND last name incorrectly.  My future last name was spelled incorrectly.  I replied “OMG did I spell all of your names wrong?”  “LOL…yes.”

Faakkkkkk…  I log onto the website and not only did I spell 3/4 of Ginge’s brother’s family’s last names incorrectly, I used THREE DIFFERENT SPELLINGS of their last name between all of the other guests on the list.  I literally DO NOT know how this happened and I have no excuse for it.  Was I drunk?  Maybe??  I guess I don’t like to do wedding tasks sober so maybe it’s a possibility.  I went through the list one-by-one and corrected all of his family’s last names.  I asked him to come sit down and go over every single guest and give it a double look.  He’s like, yep, yep, yep, these are all right… then he gets to his own name.  “YOU SPELLED MY NAME WRONG.”

What in the motherf*&*^*$&^….

Who put me in charge of this?

This is an outdoor wedding.  The entire thing.  There is no backup “indoor” plan.  It’s a legit horse farm.  With horses.  In the barn.  You heard it here first… It’s going to rain.  I’ve already put 100 umbrellas in my Amazon shopping cart.  Bring rain boots.