I’ve made a full recovery.

Probably time to tell folks that I’ve been convalescing for some time trying very hard to recover from a difficult affliction.

It strikes mostly women between the ages of 18 to 50. The numbers for this disorder are steadily on the rise, if you can believe the press.

It causes pain around the heart area, headaches and chronic pain in the arse.

It is the topic of talk shows, magazine covers and water cooler conversations ’round the world as women band together to defeat this terrible, terrible suffering.

What is this troubling ailment?

Chronic Single-itis.

Yes, folks, I’m pleased to tell you that as of today, I’ve gone into complete remission.

And I guess now The Cute Boy is The Cutest Husband. Or he can just remain The Good Man, I suppose…

(P.S. I couldn’t *be* happier!)

It’s a long way from Albuquerque

Had the opportunity yesterday to pick up my finally finished wedding dress.

This custom made dress purchase has been an odd experience, but in the end, I think it will be lovely. Most importantly, it’s DONE.

At the end of the fitting appointment, they placed a long zippered bag into my arms and sent me on my way.

I rode the creaky elevator down holding the dress out from my body like a sick child, careful not to bump or soil it.

I stepped out onto the street in San Francisco, headed to find The Good Man.

As I waited for the light to turn so I could cross a busy intersection, I had crystal moment of realization.

Look at me, here now. How did I get here?

I’m walking in Union Square in the glorious and tony San Francisco, holding before me my custom made WEDDING dress.

How did this little insecure girl from New Mexico end up here?

Amazing how far I’ve come. I’m proud of me.

As I crossed the street, my eyes searched out the The Good Man. I found him, leaning against a wall, looking more handsome than ever. And I started crying.

Happy tears. Relief.

I don’t know how I got so lucky. I’m just so grateful I did.

Thoughts at less than a week to the "big day"

I promise to get back to regularly scheduled snarkery soon, but I just gotta get through this week.

We are down to less than a week until I get…(holy crap) married.

Here’s the thing, I feel pretty calm. It seems like everyone around me (mostly work folks) desperately want me to display full-blown anxiety. Like my freak out would somehow validate them?

Oh, I’m sure that this calm feeling won’t last through the weekend. We’re down to where the “small stuff” gets sweated. Where you find out if the people you paid a not-insubstantial amount of money will actually step up to the plate.

So far, I’ve managed not to be a bridezilla. Ok, to be fair, I was *prepared* to lose my shizz on Saturday for my latest dress fitting. The folks just don’t seem to be getting it. The seamstress had the audacity to tell me that the top wasn’t too large, I was just “not used to wearing a strapless dress”.

I informed her, in no uncertain terms, that I would NOT be spending my wedding day tugging at my dress. So they fixed it.

On this past Saturday, I was prepared to take the dress home, but for this weird pucker in the seam at my hips. I said “that needs to be fixed” and the lady helping me said “oh no, you just need to smooth it”. I said no, she said smooth. This went on for a while.

After a bit, the owner came over (she hadn’t been privy to the no/smooth conversation) and said “hey, it looks like this fits great…oh, except for THAT” and pointed RIGHT at the pucker-in-contention.

Then she ordered her minions to fix it.

Heh.

No need to bridezilla when the owner of the shop (who puts her name on my dress) can do my dirty work!

And that’s not the half of it…

Am I worried that the lackadaisical new owners of the reception location will not pull it off? Sure. But there is little I can do about it at this point. We have to, as The Good Man says, “play through”.

Will I feel the intensity of the event when, starting Friday, our nearest and dearest start arriving? Sure. Family always ups the ante.

But included in those nearest and dearest are my best friend and my two goddaughters. For how ever worried I could be, I can look into the faces of my two baby girls and smile. Because being with them is what matters. And having my best friend to hold my hand. Oh, and having her help me into my bustier and Spanx.

I already promised her I’d try not to be too sweaty. I’m a real good friend, huh?

I’m not going to jinx myself by saying “oh everything is perfect!!” It can’t be.

But The Good Man and me…we’ll just play through.

It’s the foundation of our relationship.

And at the end of the day, if I end up married to him, then the day was a rousing success. No matter what else happens.

Oh..and cake! That always helps…

Strategy.

Yes, planning session. Must have.

Approach. Direction. Map out the route. Implement. Execute.

Yup. Vital.

Necessary.

What’s that? Work? No, no, I’m not talking about work.

Food. At the baseball game. Tonight. Yup. The Good Man and I are currently engaged in a lengthy instant message conversation planning this out.

What needs to be consumed. Where it’s located. How to obtain efficiently.

Nice.

BTW, I learned this blitz strategy from my Mom. Attending the NM State Fair.

“Ok, we start out in the Spanish Village for a burrito…then across the way to the Native American Village for fry bread and honey…Mom needs a corndog…Karen wants funnel cake…”

You know the drill.

Hey, I learned from the best.

Dreaming of a Cha-Cha bowl now (bless you Orlando Cepeda!)…

Photo source.

Thar she blows!

Yup. There you go. The Good Man and me are legally licensed to run off like two crazy kids and hitch our lives together, willy-nilly without regard for consequences!

YIPE!

juuuuuust kidding!

The good news is that the county produces this handy illustrated booklet to help us get through “the rough patches”.

Last evening, we solemnly flipped through the pages.

Who knew that keys to a happy marriage included regular exercise and washing your vegetables before consuming?

Ah well…: plugs nose and jumps in :

____________________

PS: ok, that’s not the *actual* license above, rather a pretty souvenir the State of California provides…the real one is quite ugly…form-like, in triplicate and all that governmental schtuff.