It's beautiful in New York City today, the literal calm before the storm. Isabel is on her way and, while no one is boarding up their apartment windows or stocking emergency kits, everyone knows they're going to get wet.
And so it is with our wedding plans. The hurricane is approaching and, depending who you ask, it will either be downgraded to a tropical depression or pack the biggest punch this side of Tyson. Most of our newly-married friends predict the latter. "A and I have never bickered so much in our entire relationship," emailed one friend. "You might have it all under control now, but a year from now you'll wish you had more time," said another.
Perhaps L and I are naive to think we'll survive this year with a minimum of fighting, but so far we seem to have a lot under control. The date, of course, is set. Thanks to L's sister's wedding, we know what caterer and florist we'll use. We know who will be performing the ceremony (more about that in a future post).
Still, we're being careful. We've put up our own little sandbags to protect the relationship. Friday and Saturday nights are "wedding-free" zones, leaving us free to enjoy our weekends and giving us more than enough time during the week to take care of whatever details pop up.
That's cute, the veterans say. Sandbags! How droll! It's as if L and I are in our parents' car, surfboards strapped to the roof, zipping past miles of people driving the other way along a coastal evacuation route. As we head to the beach while everyone else heads for the hills, the traffic-stuck minivan drivers mutter under their breath, "Stupid kids."Posted by The Groom at September 18, 2003 11:14 AM