Well, I'm a married woman now. (K reads that and sez: "you're the wife now." I remind him that he's still the LOVE MONKEY.) I'm still partially working in adrenaline-hopped, what-do-I-need-to-do-now mode. It's hard to finally stop running around and realize that the entire thing is now over. We leave tomorrow for a place down the coast; we couldn't really decide on a real honeymoon and neither of us wanted to plan for one while also planning the wedding, so we just decided to get the hell out of Dodge for a few days. Nice little hotel (hopefully), some not-too-taxing old growth forest hikes, big soaking tubs, and a good chef.
It actually all went very well. The food was fantastic (all is forgiven with the caterers), everyone seemed to have a good time, and, quelle miracle, I didn't dissolve into a puddle of teary goo during the ceremony. That came later.
The cake tasted pretty good even if it wasn't made by my favorite baker and all the flowers were gorgeous. It didn't rain and it wasn't a million degrees, and my hair even turned out fabulous. The flowers in it were drooping by the end of the night but you really, fate had already given me a pass that evening.
The worst that's happened is we can't find the cake topper, which is making me sick with worry because it was borrowed from my friend, who used it for HER wedding. I feel awful. I'll call the caterers and the venue tomorrow and see if any of them know where it is since none of the helpers or wedding parties had it.
Y'all probably want a picture. I don't think this looks like me at all.
My caption for this picture would be "Yes, I Have A Bosom!"
The whole experience was lovely but still somewhat surreal. Strange to be the center of all that attention.
I finished all of a single row on the Lily of the Valley stole since Tuesday. It was too warm for a wrap anyway, so hooray for not torturing myself to finish it and ignoring all the many other things that needed to be done.