I'm still alive, I swear. But it's not like my 10 glorious followers are sitting in front of their computers, like, "OMG WHAT IS SHE UP TO?!" I mean, I like to think one of you 10 lovely readers misses me, but reality says you probably didn't notice I was gone.

ANYWAYS.

After three weeks of working 5 straight days (horrible, I know), I should be back to my almost-normal schedule now. Except, my boss wants to take away my free Thursdays, and make me work. Effective immediately. Yay moneys! BOO no sleeping in!

Oh, and that's yet another day I won't have to work on wedding stuff. And we're 7 weeks away from the Big Day. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't freaking out about this.

Friday night was spent starting on veil construction. Oh yes, I'm making my own veil. Because I'm completely insane. Actually, it's because my step-dad's sister bailed on making a veil for me, and the prices people charge for these things is completely insane. $200 for some fluffy shit and sequins? I don't think so. I have hands and free time and hot glue... I can do this for cheap!

So after 30 tense minutes of wandering around Joann's in search of the right supplies... I came home with $29 worth of tulle, fishing line, and hair combs. I didn't get the sparkley rhinestones... Yet. If I can assemble the veil without it looking ghetto, then I'll tackle sparkles. I know I'm good at sparkles.

I searched the internets for the best tutorials, only to find that there are none. Well, there are tutorials, but they suck. I think tulle is just really hard to capture on video. It's like Bigfoot or Nessie or the Chupacabra. It's elusive. And I don't think there's one universal method to veil-making. So I kind of had to watch some videos, use my brain, and just go fot it.

Luckily, I bought like, 7 yards of tulle. That's like, 189 square feet of elusive fluffy crap. Which looks like a ghostly aparition when it's bunched up on your couch and you've had a few glasses of wine. But yeah, I had enough extra tulle to experiment.

Did I mention Skip hates tulle? Because he spent like a solid hour sitting on the couch yelling, "I F%$#ING HATE TULLE! OMG! IT'S ITCHY! GET IT OFF MEEEE!" And I was yelling back, "STOP MOVING! YOU'RE GOING TO SCARE THE GHOST AWAYYYYY!"

So attempt numero-uno was a bust.

But the second attempt was mostly a success. I think if I glue on some sparkly stuff, no one will notice my terrible fishing line sewing skills. But I'll need to do that sober, because hot glue is (duh) hot. And tulle is (duh) elusive. I don't need an ER visit in my life right now.

What I do need in my life is glorious wedding shoes. And Skip needs 3 inches of height in his life, so I don't look like a giant standing next to him at the altar. Seriously. Dillards had super glorious sparkletastic wedding shoes, but they would've made me look like an Amazonian queen. Which would be great, if Skip wasn't vertically challenged. Well, he's not challenged... He's just not gifted. We're like, the same height. So he's freakishly tall, but not tall enough that I can wear glorious heels.

So the other insane thing I'm doing this weekend... Is taking Skip out to help me find wedding shoes. Basically, I just need him there as a reference piece. So I can stand next to him and be like, "Yep, you're still short. These shoes are out." Or "ZOMG THESE ARE THE SHOES." Skip will probably hate this process, but it needs to happen. I can't keep buying and returning shoes like a crazy person because they're too tall.

That's all that's really going on right now... Well, there's probably other stuff, too, but nothing really interesting.

I promise I'll try to update this more frequently. For reals, this time!

Ghosts, goblins, and sparkles,

Wedding planning ain't for sissies. Especially when you live in one state, and the wedding you're planning is 1,400 miles away, in another state. Oh, and everyone ever who could help is in that state too. And everyone ever that is totally annoying and unhelpful is scattered somewhere else in-between.

People have told me I should delegate tasks to people... Like bridesmaids and family members who I don't want to kill. Okay, no problem. Can you buy me some of these pumpkins from Joann Crafts?



No? The Joann Crafts in Florida doesn't carry awesome funky-shaped fake pumpkins? How about equally-awesome white fake pumpkins? Like these?


No? No white pumpkins?

DOES YOUR JOANN CRAFTS HAVE ANY OF THESE PUMPKINS?! Any pumpkins at all? Anything that remotely resembles a pumpkin? How about foam floral balls? We could shape them into pumpkins, and then paint them. No? No foam?

WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT.

But it's probably for the best that these pumpkins don't exist in Florida... Because once they're found, I'd have to work out sending money for their purchase. And I don't even want to know what that would be like. I'll just buy them here, and strap them to the roof of the Jeep with duct tape and kitchen twine. They *should* survive the drive. No worries.

So delegating is a no-go. Even calling mom for help in some tasks is frightening... She's kind of like Skip, in that her favorite line is, "It's okay... I've got it handled." And I'm like, "Do you really?? Do you have this handled?? 'Cause I'm 1,400 miles away and I'm FREAKING OUT and I need to be positively sure that you have this handled in the best way possible. Text me pictures for proof, lady! kthx."

Except I don't really tell her that. I just make a list of the stuff I need her to do, and I put little reminders on my calendar so I know when to remind her, REALLY remind her, FREAK OUT AND REMIND HER AGAIN, and then just worry about it when I get to Florida.

And then there's delegating to Skip... Which should be all happy fun times, but it's not. He makes me kind of stabby with stuff. "Oh yea, I'll do that..." Which secretly means he won't do it in a timely fashion, which will make me anxious, and I'll just do it my damn self so it gets done. It's also a chore to get Skip to pry himself away from ESPN to discuss wedding crap. He mutes the TV... Which means he's just reading the ticker at the bottom instead of listening to me babble about bouttonieres or tablecloths.

OH. AND THE TABLECLOTHS. Did I tell you about Groomzilla and the Not-Ivory-Enough Tablecloths? Maybe I did... I don't remember. But yea, he whined that the Ivory tablecloth sample I ordered was too white. So we ordered this other Ivory one, and it's like, WHOAH BUDDY, in-your-face-ivory. I don't like it. Now it's too ivory. And now Skip is like, "I DON'T CARE PLEASE DON'T KILL ME." So he now has zero opinion. Fantastic.

That there is the "too white" tablecloth, with our three overlay colors... Which mom has tried like, 56,327 times to talk me out of, because they'll be a pain in the ass to iron and make look pretty. But I'm an idiot bride, and this is what has to be on my tables. I love them, and it's happening. DONE. So whoever pisses me off the week before the wedding is getting the job of "overlay ironer." They're gonna get an iron, some starch, an ironing board, and 25 satin thingeys to iron... And like, 5 minutes to do it or else they get stabbed. See! Delegation!

I think I'm a bad bride.

Did I mention I hot-glued a thumbtack to my finger today? Yea, that was pretty awesome. Why was I putting hot glue on thumbtacks? Oh, because I'm insane. Yep. Insane. I was hot-gluing some fall leaf sequin glitter things to thumbtacks to possibly use for our escort cards... Yea, possibly. If I decide to do cards and not just a giant piece of paper with names and table assignments written on it in sharpie. So I may or may not have just glued 140 stupid sequin glitter leaves to thumbtacks for NO APPARENT REASON.

It's definitely too early for cocktails.

In closing, I need this wreath in my life:



...But you'll have to come to Kansas City to buy it for me. It only exists at the Joann Crafts by my house. You can't get it wherever you live. 

Vodka, Hot Glue, and Glitter---