My friends, it is midnight, and I am slowly losing my mind. Planning a wedding reception is like getting 19 consecutive root canals. It’s only a few days away! For the past few days, we have been juggling seemingly hundreds of elements of this event, only taking breaks on occasion to hug each other, weeping in the corner. In fact, we’ve bonded over this experience, the way people of traumatic events feel connected to each other. Sometimes we console each other: “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon, we’ll get through this. We’ll be stronger because of this.”
Yesterday, we moved $1600’s worth of booze into our condo. Luckily three very nice friends were there to help; otherwise, we’d probably run screaming into the wilderness. We get option anxiety very often, and wedding reception is nothing but a collection of 9,000 options. Getting the wine was a breakdown waiting to happen: “For white wines, should we get 5 cases of gewurztraminer, or a combination of chardonnay, pinos grigio, or sauvignon blanc, or should we get a weird Spanish brand?” We know nothing about wine. “Well, the gewurztraminer got 89 points, and it says it tastes like pears and apricots, but this sauvignon blanc got 90 and tastes ‘velvety like ripe peaches with a hint of pine’.”
At the end, we got gewurztraminer, because it’s fun to say. And some Spanish wine, because the bottle looked cool. We think after a couple hours, people will be too drunk too care.
Lately, I’ve been feeling guilty for neglecting to invite some people, and it’s awkward running into them. “Hey, wanna hang out this Saturday?” “I can’t, I have my wedding reception. Sorry, Dad…”
Kidding, Dad will definitely be there, and he is only slightly annoyed that the invitation doesn’t have his name on it. You see, in Vietnamese (and probably other) culture, the invitation says “Mr. and Mrs. So and So invite you to their son/daughter’s nuptials.” It would also weigh about six pounds and have flowering cursive in silver on a pink background. We just had one 5×7 card that said “Huy and Jameelah are having their wedding reception! Be there!” I think he’s also going to be pissed when he realized the whole thing will be vegan. And that there is no seating arrangement. And that we’ll have glowsticks. And a friend is bringing his pet rabbit. Jameelah vetoed face painting and balloon animals, or he might hate those too.
Even as I’m typing this, Jameelah is working on our photobooth program, which takes little pictures and prints them on little strips. The printer won’t print right. Now she’s moving on to organizing our playlist to give to our DJ, who is a sweet 50-year-old woman and friend of ours.
Overall, I think it will be fun. As one of our friends who went through this only a few months ago reassured me, everyone stresses out about their wedding, especially as the day approaches. “It all comes together on the day-of,” he said.
Lately, the cherry blossoms in Seattle have been blooming and are beautiful. Sometimes I drive past a row of them and really wish I could stop to take some pictures, but there are just too many things to do. It has been raining, and the water has been destroying all the petals. Today, however, the sun was up for a moment, and I realized the petals perked right up! That’s a great lesson to learn: We can weather this. Actually, we might even have a good time. All our friends just want to celebrate with us and don’t care what type of wine we got or if the photobooth is ghetto. We are lucky by far to even have the means and opportunity to throw a celebration.
Yesterday, Jameelah came back with her practice wedding hair and makeup done, and she looked so pretty that I was speechless. For a moment, I could envision her in her white dress, walking into the room to the theme song of Dragon Quest, our favorite video game. And for a moment, for a day, like the cherry blossoms, we can celebrate life, and Spring, and our path together. And our friends will be there, wearing their glowstick bracelets, celebrating with us.
I’m going to go drink a bottle of gewurztraminer now.