Bells, Wedding

The title of this post is the subject line of an e-mail that delinquent Voxer and all around good egg Jason P set me and CarrieNation to congratulate us on our impending nuptials (I'm glad I can stop struggling to spell that word after this weekend).

Because my blog has mostly been a vehicle for hurling insults, bickering over music and perpetuating my decade-long (and counting!) War Over Nothing with Hotrod, I sometimes struggle to find the appropriate tone to discuss serious matters...such as, say, the most important -- and best -- decision I've ever made. Or, for example, one of the biggest days of my life.

But that day is fast upon us, and it seems appropriate that I say something about it from my small public platform in the hinterlands of the blogosphere.

Over the past few days I've been a bit of a nervous wreck. Although CarrieNation has done the lion's share of the planning and work for the big event, I've done enough to know how many balls we have in the air (catering, music, venue, clothes, etc.) and every day I'm worried about a new variable. The phalanx of relatives and friends descending on our fair city for the event also has me rattled, as does the prospect of being responsible for all of them having a good time.

What doesn't worry me -- even a little -- is the prospect of being married to CarrieNation. In fact, I'll let my dear readers in on a little secret: because our officiant isn't a member of a church recognized by our great commonwealth (fake Internet ministers rule) we went ahead and made it official with an officer of the court on Monday. To me, the notion that I will spend the rest of my life with CarrieNation is as natural as the notion that I'll continue to breathe air, eat breakfast and listen to the Clash for the rest of my life. To imagine any other scenario is what would scare me.

So that's it. Wish us luck on this wedding business. Cross your fingers that all of our assorted vendors show up, my Grandmother doesn't cuff my ears when she hears some of the more profane tracks on the wedding mix, and Hotrod stays sober long enough to make a coherent toast. The marriage is the easy part.