Dwindling

The days, that is. They are counting down quicker and quicker. Only 47 days left until our big day. Tuxedos are fitted, at least the first fitting. Gifts have been bought. Dresses picked out and ready for alterations. RSVPs are being returned, slowly. We are planning the day that we spend going to the courthouse to get the license. It is all coming together quite nicely. Of course, I don't handle too much of the planning so of course it's going smoothly. If grooms or groomsmen were in charge of the actually ceremony, no matter how big or small, it would be a disaster. The best man does his best just to plan getting drunk one night and possibly going out to see half naked, or if the best man is single, fully naked women. Coordinating food, entertainment, flowers, people, wardrobes, seating, etc etc etc etc would drive us bonkers. Its not that we aren't that smart, we can organize full Fantasy sports leagues with drafts, team assignments, salaries, trades and a full season of being commissioner as well as owner of a team. But a wedding is about the bride. It's her day. She is the one spending thousands on a dress, not $100 for a rented tux. It's her parents that are footing the bill for this little shindig. Granted, once you are on your second, third, fourth, or 71st wedding, the roles tend to blend a bit and the event tends to scale itself down. But still, everyone is there to see a beautiful woman in a beatiful dress walk slowly down the isle toward some guy in a $100 rented tux.