Echoes.

I’ve spent a good amount of time today perusing wedding sites.
This is destructive behavior in several ways.
One, because my budget is pretty much spoken for considering food and whatnot – and two, because it would only take half a whisper of a hint to get me to commit to all of those gorgeous ideas and more.
I have dreams of wedding coordinators.

And what is this fun that they all have with it?
Wedding planning is fun?
I’ve gone from being excited about marrying the only man I think I could love consistently for the rest of my life, to praying I make it through the planning stages.
I feel about wedding planning the way most people feel about dirty diapers and hangover vomit.

If I was able to choose between that and an enema, well, let me assure you, I’d be one clean lady.

So what is it that these brides of femininity have that I don’t seem to have?  A different gene?  A chromosomal abnormality?  Estrogen?
Their creativity seems to be limitless and they blog their finds out one by one on their blogs – in helpful optimism so that people like me won’t drown in a sea of linens ordered in the wrong shade of brown.

Should I start telling you about the details of my planning?
Sure.
I’ll tell you some.

For one thing, Memphis is totally bereft of wedding resources for the reluctant bride-to-be.
For those budget-conscious girlie sale-attack-gurus, it doesn’t matter if they’re on a rowboat in the ocean, they’ll find what they’re looking for.
But for someone like me?
Well.
I started with Google.

A church location was easy.
How could it not be?
I wanted an outdoor reception on my grandmother’s land and the only Catholic church allowed in Mississippi, where they live, is Christ the King.

A gorgeous church – bad sound qualities. 
I guess that means I’ll have to forgo the prerequisite tonedeaf “Ave Maria” singer.  We must make sacrifices.

Then the reception idea fell through.  I won’t say I’m not still bitter about that – but the fiance vetoed and I bowed down to his opinion.  At that point he hadn’t offered up much of one, so I figured I could throw the boy a bone.

Convenience tends to be a turn on of mine, so the golf club that surrounds my apartment complex was voted in.  A bit of a rustic look on the outside – totally not what I was going for, but much less of a drive than the 45 minute other options I had.

The entire time I’m thinking of planning I keep running into the same advice.
A theme.  A theme. You have to have a theme.
And apparently ‘What Lish Likes’ and ‘What Lish and Nick can afford’ aren’t considered appropriate themes.
Mainly because my advisors are good at spending other people’s money.

My theme isn’t really a theme.
I chose a color.
Mango Callas.  (I know.  Totally original.  Blame my sheep mentality.)
So.  Mango it was – then… that gorgeous green of the stems – a color and theme in one!
But what color for the girls?  Ah, I know.
An October wedding?  Chocolate.
Who doesn’t like chocolate?

So there we had it.
A church, a reception club place, flower initiatives, and color schemes.

And still.
Back to the theme.
Mod invites.  A classic cake.
Ivory dress.  Mango Callas.
Midday wedding.

No music ideas, no baker yet, no linens.

Just a bunch of forks that I keep stabbing into my eye to distract me from the fact that there is no fairy godconsultant that is going to come along and save me from the torture.
Can’t I just marry the guy?
I love him – why all the planning for a day that is breaking him into hives over the cost, me into hives over the sheer torture of the monotonous LACK OF THEME!!!  CAN YOU BELIEVE LISH DOESN’T HAVE A THEME?

But today.
I have happened upon a theme.
Other People’s Weddings.
Granted, it’s expensive, as there are a lot of weddings out there for us to emulate, but at the same time, by the end of the 237th or so, we’ll have at least accomplished enough of the various wedding events that we can assure each other that every need was seen to at least once and that we are really and truly married.

I’m thinking I’ll start with the one that costs a million dollars and makes me look like a size 2 in my dress.
Complete with gorgeous cancer-free tan and deltoids that make your mouth water.

Yay for decision making!