Wednesday, April 19, 2006

RSVP stands for "respondez, s'il vous plait." That means "please respond" in French. Yes, I know the French don't like us, but somehow we've adopted this custom of putting the request RSVP at the bottom of invitations. RSVP is not the same as Regrets only, which has reared its ugly head by confusing those who don't know what RSVP means. RSVP needs a response. It says, Tell me either way if you're coming or if you're not.

Maybe all brides go through this when they get married, this rock-solid resolve that builds toward responding to invitations in a timely and consistent manner. All I know is, I had better gosh darn respond to every single RSVP.

I don't even know

Sunday, April 16, 2006

What does marriage even mean?

Ten days?

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

My birthday was nice, to those of you who put up with my mini-tirade...low-key and relaxed and wonderful. It was actually kind of a relief not having any expectations attached to it. Jonathan took me out to Houston's, one of my favorite places, and we had a good time all day long together, on our last unmarried birthday.

There are about 923892832 things that come up that can only be done in the final weeks before your wedding, it seems to me. And we're getting them done. But I'm pretty sure I could have already got my car inspected... whoops. It's 7:14 a.m., and darn it, I will be the first one in line when they open at 8.

The Overshadowed Birthday

Friday, April 07, 2006

Yes, yes, tomorrow is my birthday. I'm turning 22 just in time to get married, I know, I know. And I need to preface this post with the acknowledgement that what I'm about to say may sound self-pitying, but it's not in any way.

I am one of those people who loves their birthday. Yes, I've been known to cry if it wasn't a good one (um, think 1992 and 1999, friends). I love that there is one day in the whole year that really belongs to you only (yes, mine also belongs to Betty Ford, Gerald Ford's wife, and Laura Lemmons, and my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Michael, swears it's the prophet Muhammed's too). I love that there is one day in the year that anyone you meet and tell it is your birthday will instantly either a) smile, b) wish you Happy Birthday, or c) instantly be nicer to you--i.e., toll booth workers, teachers, restaurant servers, etc.

Another thing I love about my birthday is that it is a palindrome: 4.8.84. It's the same backwards and forwards (eg, was it eliot's toilet i saw). This is not something that can happen this decade, you realize. I often feel very smug when asked for my birthdate, I can reply, "4884" with no break. And usually, the person has to stop and think for a second, and then they get it (and I'm thinking, Yeah, it's cool huh, sorry you can't have it).

This year is obviously different. Tomorrow, on my birthday, will be exactly two weeks before our wedding day. So of course, the birthday has been swept under the carpet, flown under the radar, blah blah blah, leaving me feeling semi-guilty that I am daring to have a birthday in the middle of all the hoopla and abundant gift-giving that's occurred in recent weeks/months. How dare I expect anything else at all?

Well, I'm not. My mom's making me a pink strawberry cake. And I'm turning 22 just in time. Will every year be like this?
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