Lucky, this point in time and space

I think I'm beginning to realize I'm not very good at wedding planning. Not that I ever thought I'd be great at it, but, you know, I organize. I figure I can handle it, right?

And now, seven months out, I have some of the big stuff nailed down. Dress, venue, officiant. Save-the-dates are mailed. I (sort of) have a photographer. I (sort of) have some musicians. The rest of it (flowerscakeceremonyringsfoodboozerehearsaldinnerthelistgoesonandon) I figure I'll worry about later.

What happens, though, is that I go for weeks where I am not thinking about the wedding. At all. I'm focused on writing and grad school and finding a job. These are Big, Important Things. Calla lilies vs. gerber daisies? F*ck that.

Then all of a sudden - usually on a lazy Sunday when Greg and I are watching football - it's like some switch flips on in my head that reminds me OH RIGHT YOU HAVE A WEDDING TO PLAN. And then I get frantic and start looking at blogs and pinterest and making a ton of lists and calling my mom to talk about calla lilies vs. gerber daisies and wind up getting really freaked out about all of the work I still have to do and all of the decisions I still have to make and the money we're going to have to pay and the stuff I might actually have to physically make myself, with my own two inept hands, like every time I set out to make fun door decs for my girls at Interlochen and it ended with me drunk on a Thursday night weeping in a pile of construction paper and plastic googly eyes with smears of glue stick residue all over my hands. Every time I thought it would be different when I did the crafting and IT NEVER WAS. THE CRAFTING NEVER TURNS OUT WELL. WHEN WILL I LEARN TO GIVE UP ON THE CRAFTING?

Do you see where this is going?

And then in my perusal of said blogs I noticed completely sexist and ridiculous bullshit like this:

My pretty little head? Glamorous sparkler? The "I Do" and the tears - OF COURSE? Like I'm supposed to be Scarlett O'Hara lounging in a ballgown, fanning myself and musing "Oh, Rhett, however shall I choose my wedding china? I declare there's just too many thoughts spinnin' round my pretty little head for me to ever make a decision! Thank goodness some smart man made some company that can do it for me!"

Actually, there was no proposal because I'm an independent woman who made a mutual decision with her fiance. The ring was put on my finger by my mother, since it was originally hers, while Greg was several hundred miles away. There were no tears. Mostly I was just thinking, "Crap, I hope I don't lose this thing." And I assure you that I did not ever once think about wedding china until my mom asked me this summer if I wanted it and I laughed because I thought she was joking.

I shouldn't even be bothered by sexist wedding crap, I just see it so much now that I'm actually looking at wedding stuff instead of ignoring it, and all it does is make me determined to make my own wedding different, which then puts more pressure on me to not neglect it, which causes me to make more lists, und so weiter...

Then I wind up right where I am now. It's 1AM and I am wide awake, unable to sleep, totally wired on stress and anxiety.

Okay, the latte I had earlier today probably didn't help either.