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My name is Tammy. I am 50 years old, and a newly-wed-to-be, with two grown daughters and three grandchildren. I plotted my course a long time ago, and recently the compass was swapped, and life has taken a new direction. I can be reached at: tstevens@theolympian.com.
LIVING COLUMNS
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Two weeks and counting
Two weeks and counting, and I can’t begin to put everything in order. Remember that calm before the storm? It’s over. We now have reached a category 4 hurricane that’s tearing through my days and wreaking havoc on my nights. To say that I haven’t slept peacefully in close to a week now would be accurate.
I still don’t have shoes, and those motorcycle boots or bare feet that I jokingly considered a couple of months ago have moved off the “ha ha” list to the “thinking seriously about it” list. That deletes one dilemma, but adds another: time for a pedicure. Which do you think is harder? Matching red shoes to a dress, or matching red toe-nail polish to a dress?
I did order and pick up the wine, though. Whether those cases make it to the wedding — well, you get my point. Our minister was going to send us a few samples of ceremony itineraries so we could attempt to fashion our own. He sent me one, a very religious ceremony. Not that there’s anything wrong with a religious ceremony, and I do want a certain amount of religion and tradition, but this ceremony was a little over the top for my taste and Mr. B’s. So now we are going to have to take the time to figure out exactly what we want in our ceremony. I didn’t know that was our responsibility, so we hadn’t given it any thought.
I’m finding that my friends and family are starting to get as antsy as I am. Everyday, someone asks me what I need help with — I wish I knew. I keep asking myself if there really are things others could do, but I’m such a control freak that I’m afraid they won’t do it right. But no, there really isn’t anything that can be done now. All the planning is done, and what’s left, I do have to do, or it can’t be done until closer to the wedding. Right now, I’d give my right arm to own stock in Pepto Bismol. I hate that stuff, but my stomach is on a constant roller coaster-type ride these days.
I realize this is a short blog, but I think I’m suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder these days. Focus is a five-letter word, and that’s about two letters longer than I’m able to handle. I guess I should refer back to that wedding checklist I found on the Internet about five months ago, and make sure I have some clue as to what still might need to be done. And at some point here, I think I’m just going to have to resign myself to the fact that perhaps I’m ready. Ya think?
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