You know when you haven’t been to the gym in awhile, and the idea of putting on your gym shoes, driving alllll the way to the gym, and actually working out seems like a gargantuan task? I feel like that about blogging right now (and about the gym, tbh).
I haven’t blogged in awhile. Maybe it’s because my life is trés boring sans my Penn peeps or because I haven’t done anything dumb enough to entertain you with; I don’t know. But I miss it!
The question I get asked only slightly less than “How are you?” is “How’s wedding planning going?” One of my goals in blogging about wedding planning was to NOT inundate everyone with annoying and constant updates about tablecloth choices, but I thought today I’d share some of what’s been up.
Save-the-dates have gone out, which is super exciting. We sent out postcard-style paper ones, which meant I spent days handwriting all the addresses on them. I learned a few valuable things from this experience.
First, Montana is relatively unpopulated, but not so unpopulated that if you just write someone’s name and “Polson, Montana” without an address, the postal service will know where to deliver it. Oops. I just figured they would know everyone there!
Second, the postal service does not mess around with incorrect addresses. If you try to put a single stamp on a postcard and mail it to Canada or make the Montana mistake, they won’t just return your mail to sender. They will return it so mangled and covered with ugly stamps that say “CANNOT DELIVER” that you will have to throw away the mail in question and resend another copy. Not cool, guys.
Brandon and I also started premarital counseling recently. We thought that most people knew what premarital counseling was, but apparently not, because when we tell people they think we’re on the rocks already. In reality, it’s like taking Zicam before you have a cold instead of waiting until you have one and then just complaining about how your nose is all stuffy. It’s supposed to be to start your marriage off on the right foot.
One of our exercises was to write down who would do the different domestic tasks, like cooking, cleaning, and yardwork. We agreed on most things, but for “automotive repairs,” I wrote “?” and Brandon wrote “I guess that’s me?” I’m guessing we’ll just call a mechanic. For “home repairs,” we both asked the pastor if writing “one of our dads” is an acceptable answer. We’re totally ready to grow up, I promise.
Overall, it’s been a fun experience. Through the process, we’ve both reaffirmed how committed we are to each other, and learned that we aren’t very good with repairing things.
Dress and veil are picked and off for alterations. I found my dream dress and floor-length veil for $130 total, which makes me love both even more because they don’t leave me feeling guilty about how many car payments I could have made instead. Dying to post pictures here.
Wedding bands are chosen. Mine is oval diamonds and will sit under my engagement ring. It is so sparkly and pretty and I can’t wait to wear it. Brandon’s is a simple white gold band. I told him he could have some bling, but he said “No, I like the plain one. It’s the same band Frank Underwood has.” Am I marrying an evil politician? Please advise.
Also , every time I go into the jeweler to confirm details, she pulls out my wedding band and asks if I want to visit it. I’m not really sure what to say, so I just say “Um, hi.” Is it social awkwardness if you’re not sure how to chat with an inanimate object?
Our registry is all set, too. For some reason, Brandon didn’t want to spend hours with me deciding whether to get plastic or metal measuring spoons, so I rode solo on the endeavor. Instead, I spent hours by myself deciding on what color of bathroom towels to buy (epilogue: I chose maroon). I may have put more thought into that than I did on whether or not to marry Brandon. Not sure. This homemaking thing is stressful.
Overall, life is good, wedding planning is going well, and I’m so excited for the big day. I’ve already begun praying for poise that day as to not trip and fall down the aisle. I hope God doesn’t choose to have a sense of humor.