kiwords

I’m afraid I have to confess something to you all. It seems, in the process of planning this wedding, that I have lost my ever-loving mind. Entirely. Am wacko. Kindly send chocolate and soft shoes in which to shuffle about.

The other day I was driving along, peacefully traveling the highway, when I passed another car. The driver, a man, was passing a cell phone to the young boy in the back seat. From that gesture I deduced:

A) The man was handing his son the cell phone so he could talk to his mother, who

B) LOVED the man and his son OH SO VERY MUCH and

C) Would be EVER SO SAD with this dork of a phone-passing driver killed himself and their son on the highway but even so

D) Wasn’t it so very SWEET and DEAR that he was tenderly facilitating his son’s relationship with his mother?

And so I burst into tears and cried and cried for at least three miles.

Today I went to have my first fitting for the wedding dress. I drove there, fretting about everything that could go wrong and crying at songs on the radio. Seriously, don’t you wish you could hang out with me? But I got there, not late or mangled in a car accident, or with a dress that turned out to be half maroon due to some freak dressmaking accident that I’d just failed to notice the last time I peeked in the bag…

*pant, pant*

Anyhow, I arrived just fine. I wrestled my way into my weirdo bra, shoes, and dress, and set out to be fitted. And hey, you know what? Despite being made for an Amazon, the dress? She fits me fairly well. However, the bra I bought (and spent a good four times what I’m accustomed to spending on a bra) is NOT going to work. The seamstress (who is also our priest’s wife, and a dear person) hmmm-ed at my back and said,

“Oh, well, this isn’t going to work.”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHERE?” I replied in my gentle way.

“The bra comes up a bit too high back here.”

“OH NO.”

“It’s ok, we’ll just-“

“I’LL JUST RUN OUT AND BUY ANOTHER DRESS.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Let’s just go ahead for now, and you can buy another bra.”

Well OF COURSE, I thought. A new bra. THAT would be a better plan than finding another dress. Kindly shut up now, Kira.

“Um…is that ok?” she asked.

Oh, answer her, then shut up.

“Yes! Not talking anymore now.” I said brightly. Shoot. I said that last part in the outside my head voice, didn’t I?

However, she’s accustomed to dealing with brides, so she didn’t bat an eye. She just went on pinning things, and calmly asked if I needed a drink of water or anything. I replied that I was fine, JUST FINE, and spent the rest of the visit wondering if lying to your priest’s wife sends you deeper into hell or not.

Five weeks, four days to go.

This is going to get interesting.