Fourteen months and counting...

It's started.

The fighting. The name calling. The crying. The troubles. The choosing of sides.

It's wedding planning. And I'll tell you what: it's not, uh, blissful.

The wedding dress is picked out. There's a groom (phew). Four bridesmaids. No, five. (A fifth one costs an extra $100. Did anyone know that?) A date is set. (May 19, 2007). There's a church.

Now can't we all just get along?

Me? I'm the Maid of Honor. It's an honor. It also means I'm the middle (wo)man. And being in the middle of the Bride and The Mom is one ugly battle.

So to begin, how about someone just offers up a good $10,000 so we can get this wedding planning under control? No? No one has $10,000? Oh. Right. That's the problem.

Bride wants a wedding. Mom wants a wedding. Good, we've got that under control. But there's a whole mess of catering, reception planning, photography, flowers, invitations, cakes, dresses, entertainment, blah, blah, B-L-A-H to deal with. And who has the money to pay for it? Uh, no one.

Then the catastrophe of picking colors. I think we're down to pink and silver. Or white and pink? Or silver? Pink? Help. Me. Tuesday night I got a call from Mom, in shambles over how to afford a wedding. Wednesday night I got a call from the Bride, in shambles over fighting with Mom.

Bride: Mom said you hate my bridesmaid dresses.
Me: Huh? I didn't - - (abruptly cut off)
Bride: I haven't even picked my dresses out yet!
Me: But --
Bride: This is my wedding. If I want pizza at the reception I should have it!
Me: Right, I --
Bride: $ ! @ * % !!

(Whimper. Hang up phone. Go back to bed. Probably repeat for next 14 months).

I don't think I ever said I hated the bridesmaid dresses. Did I?

So far it sounds like the Bride has her ideas down pat. Dress? Check. Uncle as photographer? Check. Invitations? Check. Pizza at the reception? Strange, but cheap. And check. Reception entertainment? A cover band. Check. Eating on paper plates if we must? Check.

It sounds cheap to me. Which is what everyone wants, right? But Mom isn't sold.

So as the next fourteen months roll on, I'll watch as the Wedding Drama unfolds. It may take some more late-night phonecalls, some "Yes, I agree" and "Oh, you're so right" answers, and a pink and silver dress, but I trust we might make it out alive.

I mean, this is a wedding right? Two people? In love? We were ecstatic about this at first? Remember? Now everyone hug and play nice.


But I've learned when I get married, I'm hauling my ass to Vegas with my friends. I'll let you know how it goes.