In Nineteen Days

Nineteen days until the wedding. I'm sure there's something, but right now I can't think of anything I've been so excited about. Nineteen days until I can wear my pretty dress in front of all my family and friends, and Jordan and I can dance, and then we can head off to San Antonio for our honeymoon! A whole week off work? Yes, please.

Have I mentioned that I'm excited? 


On Thursday I drove to Texas, and my brothers were home for the weekend too, so the six of us were all together.  (My brothers kept saying it was the "last time as all Reeses.")


On Friday, my sister and I went shopping. I called Jordan in the morning to say hello then told him I was going to get "things" to wear on our honeymoon. One of my brothers was standing nearby and made a face at me.

"Things?" Jordan said. 
"Yeah. Things like shorts and T-shirts and maybe a cute dress," I replied. 
He laughed. "Oh okay."
That guy.

And things I did get. I had a bit of money leftover from Christmas, and I spent it all. I'd been saving it for something special, and I decided some new clothes was just the thing. Also, my fourteen-year-old sister is surprisingly helpful when it comes to clothes shopping. Opinionated and not shy to give advice, she's brutally honest, and I trust her because she's a pretty darn cute dresser herself. 

Later, after my mom had gotten home from work and dinner had been all cleaned up, we set out to find a movie to watch. Everyone had an opinion, but no one actually wanted to look through our huge stack of DVDs to find anything. Finally, my mom said, "I'll pick one. What genre do you want?"

We all said something funny.

A minute later she emerged. "This is the one," she said, holding it up to show us the cover.
It was Double Jeopardy, a movie that isn't even sort of funny. Not really sure what happened there but whatever.

So we did that on Friday night, and on Saturday I drove around running wedding errands with Mom, one of which included a visit back to see my Italian seamstress. In lieu of a bustle that hooks on my butt, we're going with a ribbon-on-my-wrist sort of situation, so she (the seamstress) sewed a piece of ribbon to the dress and then looped it so I can stick my wrist through to hold the train up during the reception.

I tried the dress on just to see how it felt, and I'd been wearing it for no more than three minutes when I heard a snap; I looked down to see a ribbon hanging from the back of the dress. It had broke. 

"Oops," I said, looking guiltily at my mom.
"Well," she said, "I'll have to call Maria."

I was worried she'd be mad, but when we told her what had happened she just grunted and said, "Eh."

Long story short, we used a thicker piece of ribbon, and I think it's going to work. In case of an emergency, we'll be sure to carry a few safety pins, but I think it'll be okay. Good thing I tried the dress on beforehand, though, because that could have been bad. And when we left, Maria said, "That's, eh, why you be careful, okay? I sewed it four times now, so it, eh, should work."


I guess we'll see if it will work. In nineteen days.