Fast forward four weeks. During that time I studied, did finals, and tried to plan a wedding. What a joke! Thank goodness for my mom and Gerry Y. who took our plans from earlier in the year and made them happen (along with so many helpers!-thank you!!!).
I was going to tell the long, drawn-out, horrific story of the announcements, but I just don't want to. At least, not in detail To make a long, painful story short--I ordered them (expedited) to be shipped ASAP. The day after I was supposed to receive them, I called and they told me that they never received the order. AAAAACK! I called and hysterically told my big sister (very experienced in customer service) what had happened, but not even Laurel could pull out a miracle on that one (much to my shocked surprise--thanks again, sis!). So I found some paper at the stationery store, went to a printer, and got announcements made (photocopied--can you believe the faux pas-ery of it all?).
Well, I am here to tell you that you can get married even if you have photocopied announcements. Who knew?
I flew home a week before the wedding. I walked into a beehive of activity. As a little background, my family seems to need a deadline to get major things done. My little sister and I had provided the deadline--wedding receptions to be held in our backyard. My mom thought she had until the middle of September to get ready, but then I sprang my wedding needs on her only a few weeks before the big day. Boy, I was in for a week of work!
We laid tile in the whole kitchen/family room, recarpeted (I think), rewallpapered the downstairs bathroom (plaid--not a good idea in a time crunch--FYI!), the family room (can we say Hallelujah for wallpaper that can be hung upside down and no one will know?), repainted ALL the trim, etc. And that was only inside the house (where no one would be except the kitchen helpers)!
The backyard renovation included restaining the deck, ripping out the hideous pine tree in the corner, cutting back the iceplant (oh how many stories I could tell about the summer days shen we were supposed to be cutting back the iceplant!), weeding the bark sections and laying new bark, planting HUNDREDS of flowers and shrubs, laying stepping stones between the fence gate and deck, and SO MUCH MORE!
I couldn't believe how tired I was each night as I went to bed. I was supposed to be getting mani/pedis and facials and sitting in the sun with cucumbers over my eyes, right? I guess there was no rest for the wicked (or engaged!).
The work took its toll on my hands. I couldn't get all the dirt out from under my anemic and chipped nails, so I took a drastic measure: acrylic nails for my big day. Just so you know, I bit my fingernails until I was well into my college career (and only stopped then when a classical guitar-playing quasi-boyfriend of mine told me he thought it was absolutely GROSS). I am a pianist. I don't like long nails, but I figured I needed to not look like Ms. Bride Hamburger Hands on my wedding day. I remember the nail tech staring at me in unbelief when I told her how short I wanted my nails to be. She thought it was blasphemy to have them shorter than an inch and a half. But I got my way, and left thinking that my hands looked pretty good.
But my pain was nothing compared to what Mr. TD&H would go through with his tux...