Last minute wedding preparations consume my thoughts… not really. I’m sucking wind on my side of the deal. I’m not much of a planner, organizer or director. Think of me as talent. I’m the Marlon Brando to Aimee’s Francis Ford Coppola. I’m difficult and temperamental, but can bust out a great performance every now and again. She’s consistent, hardworking and a genius. It might seem like I’m comparing our wedding to Apocalypse Now, because I am. It was hell to coordinate, but it’s going to be a masterpiece.
I caught a break yesterday when I took my suit for alterations. Seems I just made the cutoff in time to get the suit back in time for us to leave for Florida. I wouldn’t be typing this post had I not made the deadline. It’s next to impossible to type in a full body cast.
I still have to finish trimming and gluing the programs for the ceremony. I figure if I do ten a night, I’ll make that deadline, too. Yeah, that’s me trying to plan.
I must really like living on the edge, or subconsciously I’m drawn to the idea of nurses changing my bedpan while I lay in traction, slurping my dinner through a tube.
I also have to buy gifts for the Groomsmen. Oh, and ties as well. If I do not secure these items by Saturday at midnight, there will be no kickball for me on Sunday.
I wonder if Coppola ever threatened Brando with no kickball.
Also, I’m trying to decide on Beard or No Beard for the wedding day. Aimee is back and forth. I don’t care either way. Feel free to add your $.02 to the comments. I need to decide by Saturday because I’ll need to get some sun on my face before the ceremony if I decided to lose it.
So, what do you think?