Ketchup or Catsup?

"We are going to Little Alex's for dinner."
"No. I don't want Mexican."
"Well, your father and I do, and that is where we want to go."
"But I don't waaannnnt toooooo."

Do you know what I would do for a conversation like that again? At the time I hated it. Being told what to do was the worst. However, 30 is now lurking right around the corner and there is nothing I wouldn't give to have my parents swoop in and make definitive, all knowing decisions for me.

I am getting married in exactly 100 (holyshit) days. This is a wonderful thing. This means I get to spend the rest of my life having Calvin and Hobbs-esk adventures with my best good friend and our little dog. It's going to be great!

HOWEVER, before that time begins, we have to have a wedding. Now, now. Before you go and start calling me spoiled and ungrateful let me tell you that:

(1) We are paying for it ourselves 

(2) The Lion-Man is currently job hunting, which is always stressful, especially when you pile it onto a wedding

(3) We couldn't be more excited about having a party for us, by us, and about us

Aside from the wedding, there are a lot of big decisions ahead of us. What job would make Lion-Man the happiest? Where would be the best place to raise kids? Is moving so far away from family really worth it? 

These are big life changing questions that need to be answered by the grown-ups, and I certainly don't remember any solemn ceremony in which our families gathered and the torch of adulthood was passed to us. There must have been some mistake. I'm not sure who decided to put us in charge, but they should be fired. 

Where was I? Ah, yes, back to the wedding. Remember the life altering implications of the previously mentioned decisions? For some ridiculous reason I have taken that mentality and applied it to wedding planning. Each choice is treated with such gravity that a simple question from our wedding coordinator may result in several sleepless nights. I can't help this. My OCD switch has been flipped and is being guarded by a cranky bridezilla. 

Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN?! Ooo, gurl, don't make me come over there...

Ahem.

Wrong center pieces? Our marriage is doomed.

First dance song does not adequately reflect our past, present, and future? I'll probably be barren. 

I find myself standing in the aisle of life, Burns like, trying to differentiate between Ketchup and Catsup. 

The Simpson's

Does it matter? Probably not. But, you know, butterflies and hurricanes. 

Ugh. I need a grown up. 

Keep it Fancy,
Jett