The Wedding: Part 3 – What’s All The Kerfuffle About?

Today I was writing important dates on our new 2016 calendar, including that of our wedding (!!!).

Our wedding planning has so far been remarkably calm, our biggest issue to date is that we agree on things quickly and then take months to actually act on our decisions.

I had to reassure our save the date designers that yes, we had paid in September and yes, we loved the proof and didn’t want any changes, but it was taking a million years for either of us to work out what bleed we needed before we could have them printed (full bleed, we discovered after about 30 seconds of Googling).

The venue was similar, we saw it, we loved it, we booked it and the venue owner continues to be puzzled about why we haven’t toured it with her yet.

I bought my shoes on Etsy a few weeks ago and they’re currently lying splayed under the TV, where I left them after stomping around in them scared the dogs.

I’ve walked down the aisle in a white dress once before (Catholic school year 12 graduation) and have no desire to wear white ever again, so picking an outfit has been a lot of fun, though my proclivity for Addams Family-esque dress means my search history has turned up a lot dresses specifically marked as funeral wear.

Really the only sticking point for me is the celebrant. I’ve been to weddings where the celebrant called the bride four or five different names, none of them correct. At another, the celebrant sounded like she was a Playschool presenter reading erotica.

I need someone who’s going to understand that I don’t do serious romantic and that my dogs will be there and that one of them is old and poops a lot and once he’s started, moving him is like pushing a boulder up a hill. The other one likes to hump him at a moment’s notice.

I need a celebrant who won’t look at the song we want played and ask how to pronounce the band’s name, because yes, doesn’t it sound quite a lot like the fluffy covering on a certain part of the female anatomy?

I want to make B laugh, but also have sincere vows that explain what marrying him means to me, now and in whatever our future might look like.

We have an idea, one I quite like, but it’s going to take more organising and effort than anything else so far, dress included, but I figure dresses come and go, but having the perfect person to make the only serious part of the day memorable is worth more to me than all the tulle on Etsy.

The Wedding: Part 2 – Slowly Getting Better

When we got engaged, it was a whirlwind of amazing things.

A ring! A Queensland engagement party! Wedding ideas!

And then I decided I wanted a second dog and to buy a house and for the last couple of months we’ve been adjusting to having two dogs (Snoopy is a fraud. He does not act like any 12-year-old dog I’ve ever met. He is way more work than Delilah) and B has been trying to talk me out of buying every house I declare that week’s dream house.

Suddenly two months have gone by and all I have to show for it is a really long Etsy wish list of decorations.

Well, that and a date and a venue and, in my case, about half my body weight to lose.

It has been pointed out to me that I probably have more than enough things to occupy my time in the coming year without also buying a house.

(But honestly, I really did find our dream house the other day. Like, The One).

It’s not quite Mum and Dad’s farm, but it’s going to be just as beautiful.





The Wedding: Part 1 – Not Off to a Good Start


Yesterday I got a wedding planner in the mail … as in a book in which to plan, not as in a person, somehow shipped to me and stuffed in our mailbox.

It is very … traditional, but the least frou-frou one I could find, after extensive searching that may have started before B even popped the question, using my full name.

I’m going to have to change some pages, for example the page for the flower girl’s dress is clearly going to be used for Delilah.

We were sitting at home the other night, discussing the kinds of questions people get asked when applying for marriage visas. We could tell you all kinds of horrendously personal things about one another but and this is dreadful … it turned out neither of us knew the other’s birthday.

At least I knew B’s was in January, he was struggling to even come up with a month for mine.

If the authenticity of this relationship is ever called into question, you’d be far better off asking B to name the most embarrassing thing he’s ever had to buy for me from a chemist.