The show must go on

The road to hell is paved with good... wait, that's a different thing.

Our path toward the castle has been sidetracked a bit, with Jimmy laid off from his job for the past month and a half. We don't know for sure if we'll still be able to marry the day we'd planned, as we've had to stop putting money aside while we're a single-income family.

But we're keeping the faith that one of the jobs for which he's interviewed will pan out, and we'll be able to get back on track. It's very important to Jimmy that we marry on that day, and one thing I've learned about this is that we have to figure out what's important to each of us, and what we can let slide. I could move the date fairly easily; to him it's anathema. I care about flowers; he doesn't give a leaf one way or the other. Neither of us cares much about invitations, but both of us are adamant on being married in our church.

Part of keeping the faith has been continuing the wedding planning. We set it aside for the holidays, because goodness knows we had plenty else to do, but we still talk about it from time to time. One of these bridal shows signed me up for Brides Magazine, God save us. How often does that thing publish, anyway? About nine issues piled up in a month, I swear. They're stacked on my beleaguered crafts table, beside my unopened wedding organizer and a sackful of vendor brochures.

I scan through Brides when I need a good laugh. These people are frightening. Sure, this bride had the ballroom of the New York Ritz-Carlton swathed in white linen and covered in trees and greenery brought in just for her wedding to look like she was marrying in a forest! No price was mentioned, of course. Let's not forget favors for your 500 guests that only cost $12 each. (Multiply, carry the 6... oh, more than my entire budget.) Want something blue for your feet? Try these lovely blue shoes from Saks Fifth Avenue! Only $675!

But it's a new year, new hopes and in keeping with that, we ventured back out to the Gateway Bridal Show about ten days ago. Jimmy insisted he wanted to come. I think he mostly wanted to come because there were almost no food vendors at the teeny show he attended with me last fall. He's all about the free cake. Mmm, spedini.

It was pretty much the same show as the one Katie and I attended last summer. Many of the vendors were the same, with a few newbies and the same crazed atmosphere. We planned better, and Jimmy and I actually got to see the bridal fashion show. He was pleased to finally see grooms in tails; he's such a traditionalist. Frankly, I think he's going to look quite dashing in tails, even though my devilish son is already complaining about them. "I'm going to look like a waiter!" he wails.

Of course, Jimmy had to torment each of the bakers by asking them if they could do a Godzilla groom's cake. Now, just about any of them can do a flat 2-D cake, but a 3-D cake is a different beast. A few weeks before, we had our annual Christmas date in historic St. Charles and met a baker who was positively excited at the idea of doing a 3-D Godzilla. Jimmy got a little carried away, though, and asked a baker about doing Godzilla attacking the Arch. I'm a little worried about him.

Seriously, he became enamored of the idea that a Godzilla ice sculpture in the punch bowl would be awesome. Sure, hilarious. Except he actually grabbed a brochure from the ice sculpture people. As if it were a serious consideration.

He's crossed over. He's become one of them!

And then there was this monstrosity:

Katie hates pink. Despises it. So do I, actually. But that didn't stop me from posting this picture and threatening to make her ride in it. She was... profane in her response. She needn't fear; I could not in good conscience rent this Pepto-Bismol abomination, or the Hummer limousine. I'd hear the screams of little birdies dying in my smog-choked wake. (As one of my friends put it: How many gallons to the mile does it get?)

I did find a florist whose creations were so lovely and so perfectly in tune with what I want that I let myself get talked into making an appointment. It turns out I'll have to cancel it, since it conflicts with a Boy Scout outing. It's probably just as well; there is no way I could afford the incredibly beautiful designs they had on display, and it would be an exercise in frustration. I love flowers and know that getting real flowers is one of my few non-compromises. In fact, there was a vendor there who specializes in freeze-drying your bridal bouquet (or part of it) and turning it into art for your home. I took her flyer even though I know it's probably ludicrous and impossible. I can't imagine anything better than keeping a piece of my bouquet.

I also got talked into an appointment at David's Bridal. I know I'm going to end up getting my dress there, because I cannot find another shop in this city that carries dresses under $400 in my size. Even if the salons can order dresses in my size, they don't keep samples in my size for me to try on!

And I can order on the internet... if I don't care about actually trying on my wedding gown before paying for it. If I were a size eight, I would not have this problem. And I'm not really shopping yet, since I'm hoping to be a size or two smaller by then. But if I were reduced to my skeleton, I would not be a size eight. I have hips. I bore a child.

Here's another problem: strapless dresses. What. The. *bleep*. Every freaking dress in the bridal show was strapless, yet again. I found myself longing for a spaghetti strap to remind these designers that very few women look good in a strapless dress. I'm going to have to do pushups every night for the next 521 days if I'm going to wear any of these freaking dresses, and buy the extra-special undergarments.

Possibly the highlight of the afternoon was when Jimmy made me wear a tiara. I told him I'd look silly in a tiara. He made me anyway. We will debate tiara vs. flower wreath vs. circlet vs. veil eventually. The feverish debate already launched on Facebook, with the sides evenly matched between "every woman should have a tiara" and "let go of the princess thing already."

Personally, I'm not fond of the princess thing. Queen, on the other hand, would do just fine.

Well, we've got the fairytale thing. Castle, you know. Blame him, he's the one who started all this. And he gets overwhelmed with sappy happiness at the drop of a seed pearl these days. It's adorable and sometimes confounding.

Me? I'm a little nervous. Not about marrying him. But that silly wedding site has the helpful countdown telling me we're getting married in 521 days, assuming that he gets a job again soon. And I think of trying to raise the money in that time, and I get nervous. Not that we need to spend a fortune, but I want our friends and family to have a good time, to dance and laugh and enjoy our non-cheesy celebration. Well, non-cheesy until you see the groom's cake.

People have $5,000 weddings all the time. There's a way to pull it off. I'm almost sure of it. It helps that I'll never spend $675 on a freaking pair of shoes.