Whoa. This is a totally behind-the-scenes observation, but I haven't blogged in so long that the whole Blogger interface has changed and it's a whole new world going on back here.
I woke up this morning and realized that the epic wedding countdown I've been running in my head for a year and a half has reached 12. Twelve days.
I swing from being completely ecstatic to all-out mad panic.
Yesterday I was making dinner and couldn't get the pizza I made off the back of the cookie sheet onto the 500 degree pizza stone in the oven. I ended up burning myself, sticking the pizza completely to the stone, slamming two doors and throwing a full-on 10 minute hyperventilating tantrum.
Not even an hour later I was gleefully practicing my new signature with my soon-to-be new last name.
It's a wild ride, honestly, and I can't wait to party it up and wear my pretty dress and see everyone I love and celebrate our relationship and never, ever do this again.
I don't know what's going to happen to this blog. I disappeared mostly because I hate reading wedding planning blogs, and I'm pretty sure that if I'd blogged honestly about my feelings and the last 6 months, I would have been taken away in a windowless van to somewhere safe and quiet, and you never would have heard from me again.
But maybe I'll blog about random newly-wed adventures. But do you really want to read about how depressed I am that we finished the last episode of Sherlock and an analysis of Benedict Cumberbatch's cheekbones?
Maybe you do. Who am I to judge?
I started blogging so long ago, before blogs were a commodity filled with perfect photoshop masterpieces and bright shiny ideals of home and wife and fitness and family and crafting.
I take shitty photos with my cellphone.
I'm not sure where I fit in anymore.
But I guess I'll keep going - because I know that Carolyn and Frank check here often, and if there's one thing I've learned lately, it's that friends are important, because few people will listen to an hour-long rant about imported cornmeal and resumes and colour-matching red tissue to red napkins, so when you find those people, HOLD ON TO THEM.
So for now, I'm going to go clean my bathroom, ready for the impending arrival of my father-in-law (who is staying with us in our one-bedroom condo for far more days than my usual overnight-guest policy allows), continue my search for the perfect non-transferable, non-whorish lipstick, and then I'm going to go see that movie about the male strippers.
That's how I'm spending my last days as Ms. Bailey.
See you on the other side...
two classic sangrias
16 hours ago