Toodles, I am off to play Bridge …….

This getting married thing seemed like such a good idea when I was young and naive – three weeks ago. Now I am feeling a bit jaded, a little very frustrated, and sadly a bit over the planning.

But I must plan, I must have a list, but I have few things that I can tick off that list right now.

On the upside, I seem to have a dress.  But start questioning myself that maybe I found the dress too early.  Maybe my REAL dress is waiting out there calling me.  I really need to get over my mental illness and pay the people for my dress, else my dress actually won’t be my dress and then I will be back to square one.

Wedding venues or the location of them, appears to be something that separates the resourceful from the clinically insane.  I appear to be in the second category, as I pop yet another Zoloft to ease the pain.

It has become apparent that if I booked an establishment and brought along 60 – 80 of my closest friends, an overhead projector and a laser pointer I would be charged one price.

The minute I use the word “wedding” in any of my discussions, suddenly I am hit with a  venue fee that makes me weep,  the food cost quadruples in value, and it seems the fine print at the bottom of all these offers gets finer and more detailed.  People keep using the phrase “your perfect wedding.”

Listen, my perfect wedding would be handing a wedding planning +R200 000.00, some basic ideas and then ask her to call me the day before the wedding to just tell myself and Kennith where to go.

I really do not want to get involved in where, how much it costs, whether there is a duck in a pond and whether my guests can drink in the chapel.

I am too pretty to be weighed down by this sort of detail.

We initially had the rather misguided idea that we were going to get married in the Hermanus or Stanford area.

At this stage the rather over-priced, not efficient and really not friendly people of that area have seriously put me off using the area as a  location – only because they won’t have me, not for lack of trying.  I have easily contacted a dozen places and have met with heart ache every time.

I am feeling a need to make a call to a help line that deals with abused and disheartened women, maybe ones that offer wine as a self-medicating route.

Right now – I have one outstanding query and it is sort of the place that appears the most workable.  The reason I say appears is because madam proprietor appears unable to email or call me and confirm anything.  I have emailed her twice and called her three times.

My best was yesterday.  I called – feeling really annoyed because I was still waiting.  Let’s call her Jenny – because that is her name -was out at Bridge could not deal with my query.  What she has been doing for the last week also escapes me a little, but I need to practice my “be patient” mantra as Jenny is out playing Bridge.

When I am old and less annoyed, I would like to go off and play Bridge, and not worry about the little things in life.

I have since realized that clearly the Overberg does not want to be party to our nuptials and it is time to put on my big girl panties and start looking in the Cape Town area.  I am still dealing with the venue fee +cost per head + ludicrous wine costs + and any other extras they decide to throw in.

My head hurts, my humour is failing me, and I am waking up at 3am lying in bed thinking about all this crap.

At this rate I am turning into a very angry, very frustrated nearly bride.

I will not be bridezilla …

Still saying the daily mantra – I will not be bridezilla, I will not be bridezilla.

So we went down to mangy brewery on the weekend, as we were out along the East Coast and it was not that far away from where we were.  We decided to go and have a look just so we could tick it off the list as being a very bad idea.

Surprisingly not as bad an idea as I had thought.  We can hire out the venue and they were very accommodating and said yes to pretty much everything we asked for, which also raises some concerns, but no doubt that is another issue.

Once we started looking around and took all the pub-people out – with my mind powers of course – it definitely had promise.  Listen after 2 – 3 glasses of wine anything can start to look promising.

We are pretty much guaranteed rain, hail, sleet and howling wind on the 17 July, so any chance of anything outside is going to be a far off dream.  They have a great outdoor ampitheatre that looks out over the valley and will be stunning on a good weather day – but we need to be realistic and realize that we are probably going to have our ceremony inside propped up against the bar if mother-nature has anything to do with it.

Fortunately the venue has these great medieval looking (circa 1995) black chandeliers which we can put great big candles on and two huge fireplaces.

So we are going to light the place up like Guy Fawkes day and have a really warm snug thing going on, as we battle to drink our wine against the elements.

If the weather is good, that is great, and it will change the dynamics slightly as we will be able to pull open all the fold away doors and have it spilling out onto the outside grass area, but we need to plan for bad weather and then be surprised if it is anything but.

I spoke to a guy this morning, and I actually heard him catch his breath when I said that we are planning a wedding in Cape Town in July …. you know when you get a sneaky sensation that you are doing something that is against your better judgement and the weather report, but you go along and do it anyway?

This may well be one of those moments ……

Where to start …

Kennith and I went out for pizza last night, and we had a quick discussion about who, when and how our very surprising nuptial should play out.   Like a really quick discussion…..

Kennith suggested the 17 July – which is our present “anniversary” date.  It falls on Saturday this year, so that should work out fine.   Sure it is around the corner, but who needs a long engagement?  Right?

We had spoken about doing something at a Brewery (try to control your sniggering…) way back then when we were all young and niave.  The Brewery that we really like has got a bit yuck over the years.  It has gone from divine location to a rather gritty yucky pub filled with strange men in knitted cardigans with leather patches on their sleeves.  So though that may have been a great idea 10 – 12 years ago, it ain’t flying today.

We have agreed that we might need to market this up a little from the stand around at home affairs and then nip out to the local Spur for something to nosh plan we were thinking of going with.  We are just not sure quite where between that, and the total-cost-of-a-house-for-a-wedding to stop.  Kennith is thinking as close to the bottom as possible.

I really do not want to turn into Bridezilla, it is really not my thing.  But I have this sneaky sensation that it is inevitable.

But … here is the resounding but …. I do get caught up in the detail of things, and start to stress whether the toilet paper rolls out over the roll, or from underneath the roll.  Seriously this kind of crap keeps me awake at night!  Hence my concern that planning a wedding – no matter how trailer park you keep it, can start to get very very worrisome if you start getting sucked in to it all.

I know I do not want a bring-and-braai where everyone brings their own yellow or blue cooler boxes. I know few things, but that one I know for sure.  I think it will make for great wedding photographs, I can picture it now, but I’m not so sure it will be as funny at the time, as it will be in retrospect.

I am not sure quite what “we” want – but I think Kennith wants to pay as little as he can, and drink beer from a keg.  His needs are quite simple.  If there was a stripper pole I think that would also make Kennith happy.  Kennith also wants an ice-cream van that serves soft-serves.  If you think I am making this stuff up, please feel free to ask him yourself.

Our first issue is that we need to find a marriage officer who does not repel us.  That may be the first problem, but my mate knows a guy who operates out of a parking lot and she highly recommends him.  Okay, so that should be fine.  Right?

I do not necessarily want to wear a white meringue dress, but I want to wear something pretty and I do not want to look like a total troll in the wedding photos.

Which brings us to the wedding photos.  Love that everyone likes to aim something digital and shoot it, but good photos are my thing, and I really do want good photos.  I think Kennith might drop his testicle if we start courting good photographers, so will need to think of something there and how to get good photographs without losing Kennith’s berries attached to his twig.

Huge flowers and roses everywhere are also not my thing.  I am not sure I want a dead cat on the table as a talking point/décor works, but I would need something, just what is reasonable and is not going to cost me a kidney.

I know I want wine – so that is ticked on my list.  I want really big glasses as well – the ones that sit in the palm of your hand, not on the tips of your fingers.  See, so far easy, I have a list and I am ticking things.

I want red wine soaked lamb shank and buttery mash – it is going winter, I’m thining a big roaring fire.  I am thinking of warm comfort food.  I have no idea what Kennith wants, but I am pretty sure he wants ice cream appearing somewhere, he probably would be fine with 3 – 5 courses of just ice cream.

I want everyone at one table – not this 8 table party scattered all over the show.  It must be a long table, and everyone eating and drinking too much and talking way too loud.

I don’t think I want dancing. I am thinking of an afternoon sit around a table thing – yes, you may ask, and how is this different from any other afternoon?  Well  not too much I may answer, and there is the beauty!

I really fear that at some point in the middle of the night I am going to be standing there crying because I can’t get just the right chintz as my table cloth.  And the apricot colour I chose as my theme now looks like baby vomit because the colour is just not right.  Then it is going to get all crazy and just not good.

I get a bit apprehensively exhausted that this has to be a huge drama.

In the end we might just end up a few mates around for a fondue, and get everyone to bring a dip or a pork sausage – seriously at some point I think that is going to seem like the easiest solution to this.

But still early days, nothing to worry about.  Right?

Strange days and stranger nights ….

Okay, today is a weird day.  Today I have a fiancé, yesterday I had a partner.

Trust me, if you are choking on your granola right now, you have no idea what I am doing.  It has been s.i.x.t.e.e.n.  years. Seriously – sixteen years leading up to this moment!  I am still in mild shock – it is all a bit surreal.

I had long resigned myself to the fact that this was not going to happen – ever.  Kennith was going to turn around to me – whilst in the midst of his midlife crisis – and casually tell me that he was now going to shack up with an 18 year old and start wearing leatherette pants.  Myself and the kids can get the hell out of Dodge!  You know, because we weren’t married and all, he could do that.

So, here we are at a rather strange little moment in our lives.

I did insist last night that Kennith go and change his status on Facebook – first. The strange things that become important when you when you are going through a bit of a shock ….   He called me this morning to ask me why I have not changed my relationship status, and accused me of “leaving him hanging!”

Kennith asked me this morning if I felt different.  I am the world’s biggest cynic about these things.  Anyone who can attest to meeting me will know that I have had many unattractive things to say about the entire matrimonial process, but strangely I did feel a bit different this morning.