There comes a time, on repeat, when your refrigerator is not only sticky with last week's strawberries, but it is also depressing with its lack of anything you can truly make a dinner out of. (Ah, the stumbling over ending on the preposition.) The contents: blueberries, provolone, expired milk, chopped crisp veggies. Clearing off that refrigerator, getting rid of old tacked up pictures, causing K to think the clutter looked "blank" in comparison.
Here's my confession: I am in love with Martha Stewart. And Real Simple.
But the word "perfect" makes me shudder.
(I hate to interrupt the flow, but I call the above, my Midsummer Night fairies, both gifts from K, long, long ago, from Patina.)
You see, I have this whole wedding thing coming up in a month and a half (really? No... really?). And I have obsessed on the knot, as any good bride does, and I fell in love with the drape of a dress, and I've imagined his face at the end of the aisle, and I've enjoyed deciding on the details: the letterpress, the calligraphy, the hand sewn dress, the taupe tuxedos, the adidas shoes, the hydrangea, the gifts for guests and bridesmaids, the photography, the chocolate mousse cake. Most of this, decided in partnership with K, which is a wonderful and frustrating way to do things, has fallen into place easily.
I enjoyed writing our names out, carefully, on the marriage certificate, and smiling as best I could for my passport (which we may not use anyway--more on this soon--the great where-to-debate, which rages mostly in my own head, as K is willing to agree to almost anything). I've loved picking out the rings, the way the row of diamonds matches up with the engagement ring, the way his ring fits his personality as best a ring can do (and really, I want him to wear it, even if he doesn't want to). The way I hope our small touches will fit--song written by a father, readings by friend and mother, anything small (so big, in my heart) that makes it true, makes it ours.
Oh, and that word: perfect.
Truth? I think it will be perfect, no matter what happens.
Well, almost. I mean, barring the marriage not happening--or, a relative or very dear friend not making it--it will be perfect. The goal is for K and I to be married. Provided we accomplish that goal, the day will be wonderful, especially since we get to share that day with so many people we love in so many varied ways. And that is the mantra, in case anything wacky happens, I will need to remind myself of: It is perfect because the marriage is happening and people we love are here. (No kidding, that gives me the shivers.)
But as we plan, so much is focused on what will be the "perfect" favor, the "perfect" ceremony, the "perfect" flower.
I am thinking so much of my friend Emily as she approaches her wedding day, and as she's read this book, which is supposed to help the mentality of a harried bride.
There is no such thing as perfect, no matter how much money you pump into a day, no matter how many carats the diamond.
Instead of a perfect wedding ceremony, I will trade that in for a perfect partnership. I think we're working on building that, almost eight years strong (less than one month to our eight year anniversary and one year engagement date).
And, as K would point out, no relationship, no person is perfect. I may start to complain about a tough someone, and K will say, "What is good?" and he will say, "No one is perfect." And he will hold me and let me talk, and he will make me something like the perfect french toast.
We are complicated human beings, shuffling around each other, being eccentric, delightfully so.
But I would rather the imperfect french toast, the something that can give me a story, the too-much powdered sugar, the salt of egg, the swimming in syrup.
I would rather wake up forever to K, whose long limbs are so warm and whose embrace in the morning is so good, then to have some kind of fairy tale wedding. Both are nice, yes. I bet I'll get them both, too.
I've been lucky so far. My guess: laughter, joy, close embraces, so much love. This day will be wonderful; I cannot wait. But it will not be perfect. I'll do anything to keep it from being so.
PS: Hope you've enjoyed some glimpses into my home. After taking a few shots of my parents', I thought it was time to take some of the place in which I live. Taking witness to dust clearing and all of that.
3 hours ago