The w-word

Amid all the ranting about swine flu, diving, grading, and moving, I seem to have been avoiding blogging about the big event of this summer ...

My impending nuptuals, that is.

I don't actually want to blog about it because the truth is I don't actually spend that much time thinking about it. I'd rather try to figure out how to sneak in another dive trip before leaving here. I'm that awful. If you know me, you know what I'd write anyway. And if you don't know me, then it doesn't really matter too much, does it?

One way to ensure a low-key wedding is to make sure you're 7 time zones away from the venue (and 10 time zones away from the groom) while trying to plan it. There are obvious hazards to this approach, of course. On the whole, I'm looking forward to being married, but I'm not a big fan of planning this type of thing.

I was recently reading a collection of essays and I found this great article called The Lesbian Bride's Handbook. While I (thankfully) don't have to deal with the same issues as the author, I found plenty to relate to. Such as ...

I am not a total idiot. I always had the sense to say no wedding cake, no officiant, no first dance, no here comes the bride, no Times announcement, and absolutely no white dress. Who are we kidding? And why? We just wanted a big, awesome party where everyone could meet and go bananas. It’s a special opportunity, you know: The only other time everyone you love will assemble in one place is at your funeral ... The thing is, though, you have to serve something, and you can’t very well go naked. You can call it a party about love all you want, but you still have to make all the same decisions that every other bride has to make, and you have to make them very carefully unless you want everyone you know to schlep to some crummy party in the middle of nowhere ... If I was going to have a party about love, it was going to be the classiest party about love ever. I did not experience this imperative as relaxing.

Hear, hear.