It's happened again.

But this time, the squealing was a little louder. And I couldn't jump and flail my arms because, well, I was driving. My Sister is getting married. My Sister. The same Sister who was convinced her little sister (that would be me) would marry first. (Don't fret. I'm not. Ha.) The same Sister who was convinced her Boyfriend, er, Fiance, would never pop the question. I mean, come on, it's been how many years?

(Just kidding, uh, future-brother-in-law. Can I call him that now?)

Point is: my Sister is getting married. MARRIED. That's huge. Just ask Mom and Dad. They're going to have to pay for it. Ha. Just kidding, again. I think.

And what's most exciting? OK, I know, what's most exciting is the holy matrimony that's about to take place, etc., etc., etc., so-on-and-so-forth. But no, the little sister (that would be me again) is Maid of Honor. Whoa. Now that is huge. Maid of Honor. What does that mean, exactly? Well, she already asked me to plan... er, help her plan the wedding. But don't I also have to plan bridal showers? Bachelorette parties? Talk her out of cold feet on the wedding day? This is ginormous responsibility.

I can see it now:

Priest: Do you, Big Sister, take thee, Fiance, to be your lawfully wedded husband?
Big Sister: No! Because my sister sucks and can't convince me out of my cold feet! And my bachelorette party was lame!
(Crowd gasps, glares at me for ruining the wedded bliss.)

I mean, that could happen, right? Oh the pressure.

Regardless, this is a monumental occasion. She wants a pink wedding, but I think I'll, uh, try and convince her otherwise. Me? Pink? Noo... (Maid of Honor has a say, right? No? Shoot.)

I'm going to see the newly engaged pair this weekend. Her fiance is a rockstar and has a show this weekend. I figure, you know, since I'm the Maid of Honor and all, I may as well become a groupie. Of the band. Not the couple.

Or both.

(Photo courtesy of Big Sister. The saphire ring belonged to the Fiance's great aunt.)

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