The invitations have been ordered. 
We've got a really good idea of the tablecloths we are going to use. The whole picking out the linens was a lot less gay than I thought it was going to be. Maybe that's because Fawn was sitting next to me. 
Of course I had to hear what I've been hearing through this whole process. 
"We hardly ever see the groom so involved in the process."
I take it as a compliment. I took this challenge on knowing I would make mistakes and get frustrated and put a ton of pressure on myself and love every minute of it, knowing what is waiting at the end of the journey for me and Fawn. 

I don't understand why more men don't get more involved in their wedding planning. Trust me, if I had the money, I would gladly hand over all the busy work to someone a great deal more qualified to do the job. As long as I didn't end up in crushed velvet with a polka band playing at the reception, of course.

I don't know if I'm doing a good job or not. 

We're about 75% there. 

75% there with 77 days to go. 

I've always been bad at math. Is that good? 

Here's what we've got so far. 

The dress. 

The rings. 

The venue. 

By the way...remember when I mentioned a while back, in another post, that one of my fears was that a train was going to speed by right as the ceremony starts? Here's a follow-up and a word of caution. 

I will begin by saying that 9-11 was a horrific tragedy that has scarred this country, and the world, for ever. We have endured. We have triumphed. We have not forgotten but we have moved forward. And that's all wonderful. Really. Ten years later though, and here's where it sucks just a little, you can't place the most innocent of phone calls to AM-TRAK and ask about a specific train going through a specific location at a specific time. Go figure! I understand though. I really do. It's a different world and we have to be on guard. I'm just glad I borrowed a friend's cell phone when I call Am-TRAK to ask. Red-flagged? On some watch list? Not this guy!

Okay. Back to what we've gotten accomplished.

The guest list.

The invitations. 

The food....

(okay...we're really really close on that one)

The linens. 

(probably closer than we are to the food...but still really really close)

And...and...wait a minute! 

That's it!

That's only 7 things. 7? Seriously? 7? 

<going through THE WEDDING NOTEBOOK>

<counting on fingers>

Shit. I thought I was doing so much better than that. Okay. Maybe not. Now I'm feeling like one of those kids in those Final Destination movies. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? They think they're ahead of the game, just walking down the street with some over-priced beverage from Starbucks. They're smiling. Birds are singing. The sun is shining. 

AND THEN WHAM!!

A squirrel runs out in the road...a truck to swerves to avoid the furry little bastard and steers into a scaffold...a scaffold where a guy is holding a nail gun...a nail gun which fires into the head of a guy holding a flame thrower who turns, in slow motion of course, and sets our happy teen on fire. 

What was I saying? Oh yeah. I only have 7 things done on my TO DO List and I'm afraid I will be burned alive by a guy with a flame thrower. 

Yeah. That's it.

Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel
All Rights Reserved

It's hot as Heck out there.


Not that that is new information to any of you.  
I just thought I would mention it because I'm so glad our wedding is in October. 




Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel

All Rights Reserved

Invitations


"The invitation is meant to convey the necessary facts about your upcoming ceremony and the celebration following."
"The wedding invitation-from its wording, form, and addressing to its printing style and ink color-is the subject of etiquette controversies;long chapters in wedding books;and dictatorial outlines.To flout that these sources imply is to risk massive embarrassment, if not complete social disgrace."
"...massive embarrassment....complete social disgrace..."
From Wedding Planning for Dummies


Great. 
As if I wasn't feeling stressed as it was. Now I have to worry about townspeople with pitchforks and torches banging at my door screaming for my head on a pike. 
And from the 'My Head Is Going To Explode File' 
So today was interesting. Scientific interesting. Today I finished creating our wedding stationery and uploaded...excuse me...I misspoke...must be the heat...I attempted to upload the files to the company who will be printing everything.
I said scientific because I'm pretty sure there was a group of scientists watching me for the four hours I was working at the library. Let me backtrack a little. 
Fawn and I have a laptop at home. No art or design programs are loaded onto this computer. The poor thing would probably have a stroke if we did attempt an upload. It's an HP. I affectionately refer to it as Forrest because I constantly yell at it to run faster. 
I use the computers at the local library. There is a suite of design programs-InDesign and Photoshop are the two I use the most-and as a card holder I am allowed two hours of work time. I also use Fawn's card which then gives me four hours. 
Now you would think that fours is plenty of time to create and upload 6 documents. 
You might think that, but I know better. Something always goes wrong. Whether it's connection problems or user errors, something also gets in the way and that four hour window gets smaller and smaller. 
That's what happened today. Talk about a pressure cooker. My heart is still racing!
I was like James Bond trying to defuse the bomb before it blew up something James Bondy. 
Everything I did seemed to turn into poo. First the files were too big (I used their template) and then they were distorted. Then there was an issue of the server being connected and then a dog ate someone's homework and then someone opened King Tut's tomb. As I said, everything that could have gone wrong, did.
And all the while there is this huge clock (not really-it was all in my head) ticking in my ears. 


TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK


(maddening isn't it?)


So there I am with all my wedding stationery in front of me just waiting to be sent to the printer and I can't do anything right. It's like that dream where you're running away from the killer and the carpet turns to quicksand. 
TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

Then I finally got all the files created, uploaded onto the site and ready for printing. 
Something didn't look right though and upon further examination-and confirmation from the designer's at the printers-I realized that I saved four of the biggest files with red crop marks and the words SAFE ZONE on them. 
Damn! 
TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

Oh shut up. Stupid clock.

So I quickly rebuilt everything and resent everything and waited for word from the designer that everything was okay and the order was being processed. I clicked on the icon of the clock at the bottom of the screen and it said 19 MINUTES REMAINING. 

Finally Alvin-yes Alvin-came back on, interrupting what could only have been Yanni's soundtrack for some yet-to-be-released caveman movie-and told me everything was a go.

I was done. 

Everything was loaded and my order was being processed. 

WHEW!

I looked at the time. 

007 seconds remaining. 

I'm kidding. That would have been so cool though, wouldn't it?

I had three minutes left. 
And I felt a little like I was in a James Bond movie. 
You know...a little shaken and a little stirred. 




Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel

All Rights Reserved

This week has been all about lists. The creating of lists to keep track of lists that need to be created and the listing of the things to take off the lists that have already been created. 
This week has been about the guest list and the invitations and the R.S.V.P cards and envelopes and computer screens and eye drops and...
stomach ulcers and cold sweats and tension headaches and...


WHERE THE HELL IS MY CATERER? 
AND WHY HASN'T HE CALLED ME BACK.


Everything is about tight deadlines now and pressure and frustration with people who don't return phone calls (see the above) and those little annoying details and questions. Questions like "Is silverware really that important?" and "Do you think our guests will mind using the same napkin all night long?"

Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel

All Rights Reserved

By the way...


There's less than three months to go. 


OH MY.

Mommy?

Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel

All Rights Reserved

Wedding Update:
Yes. We're still getting married. 


The Honeymoon 
Yes. We're going on one. 
And...
We know where we're going. 
Punta Cana. 
Or...as the natives pronounce it...punta cana.
I think that literally translates to 'kick the dog'...but I can't be certain.
Punta Cana is a region located on the east coast of the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean. It is 8 km of beaches of fine white sand, crystal clear waters surrounded by coral reefs. They had me at 8KM.
Here's a photo. Not ours. I just grabbed it off a website. I don't know why the web address is 'dead man musings' but I guess that Punta Cana is so totally awesome that even zombies love it.


http://deadmanmusings.blogspot.com/p/punta-cana-dominican-republic-pictures.html

The Food

Well. I've contacted the caterer. I've created a very fancy proposal per their request. Now I'm just waiting...and waiting...and waiting to hear back from them. How long do I wait? What is the appropriate time before I kick down their doors and scream and yell at them? 

I don't know. Time is running out. 

Let me just throw this out there. 

Would you all mind packing a brown bag for the reception?

Just asking.

The Naked Groom

No. I won't be naked. I will be wearing a tuxedo. A really cool tuxedo. 

The best part? The salesperson who helped us was awesome and worked out a really good deal for me and my groomsmen. It was also kind of cool that he looked a little Daniel Craig. I mean...C'MON!!! How cool is it that James Bond helped pick out your wedding tuxedo? Double 'O' My God!

Now all that's left is about...<counting on fingers> a million little details. 

Oy vay.


Je. Matzer~Goin' To The Chapel

All Rights Reserved

Random Thoughts 
About The Wedding


I'm going to cry. There is no doubt in my mind. As soon as I see Fawn start walking up (down?) the aisle I am going to cry. Not an ugly cry but a cry nonetheless. 
Well. Okay. It might get a little ugly. 


*****


Fawn is going to look amazing. A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. 
I'm going to look like a waiter. 


*****

A train is going to pass by right as we are about to say "I do." I just know it. And what do you do? You just gotta laugh. Right? RIGHT?


*I've tried contacting AM-TRAK but got the impression from their reaction that any further questions regarding future train schedules and I would labeled as a possible security threat. 

*****

Will our whole day be judged on the fact that our tablecloths were floor length and not chair length?

*****

What the HELL does chair length mean?

*****

The success or failure of this wedding will depend solely on our selection of napkins. Paper or cloth? Burnt Orange or orange? GOOD GOD! Will the questions ever cease?  

*****

I am going to be more Fred Flintstone than Fred Astaire during our first dance. Oh you scoff but you've probably never seen me dance before. It's not pretty. I'm like a tranquilized water buffalo. At least, that's what the reviews in the paper said. 


*****


The music is going to sk-sk-sk-sk-ip.


*****


When the minister asks if there is anyone who objects everyone will raise their hands. I know. Highly improbable. Nonetheless. It's a fear. Just like my fear of Wilfred Brimley. There's just something about him. Ever since The Firm. I dunno. It's just this overwhelming fear that he will kill me in my sleep.


*****


Rain. 


*****


That girl with telekinetic powers who I picked on in high school will show up and wreck havoc on the reception. 
(Note to self: Check for buckets of pig's blood in rafters.) 
(Second note to self: Check for rafters.)


*****


Why are all the mannequins in the tuxedo store so svelte?
Then again...do I really want to get my tuxedo at a place called Tux Barn?


*****


I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. I will not sweat. 

*****

I'm going to forget something. 


*****


Two words: Raptor Attack. Sure. You laugh but there have been great strides in science. You can never rule out anything.