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Think again. A week after becoming engaged, I received a late-night phone call from none other than my fiancé. It was a weeknight and I was sound asleep. Groggy, I answered the phone, not even bothering to open my eyes. I had a feeling it was Roger calling.
"Alexandra, what do you think about getting married at the Yacht Club? I know you were leaning toward the Eastern Shore, but I was just thinking it might be worth looking into."
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The idea was nice, the gesture – sweet, but at almost 11:30 at night and only seven days into our engagement I wasn't too concerned about nailing down a venue right then. What happened to the whole 'let's wait a month' plan?
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The next morning I was congratulated by more coworkers who had been out of the office and missed my news earlier. Missed phone calls were piling up displaying a little red receiver on my cell phone screen, likely college friends that were still trying to hear the story of how Roger proposed first hand. To tell you the truth, I was a little overwhelmed. I was excited and happy but actually somewhat exhausted from the response. People were literally coming out of the wood work to let me know how happy they were for me. For example, my sophomore-year roommate, beautiful bubbly girl half Iranian, half British, had graduated with me and then went onto South Africa with the Peace Corps. We hadn't talked since senior year, and all of sudden I got a funny looking phone number calling me. Luckily I picked up and it was wonderful reconnecting with her, even though she's thousands of miles away.
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But no matter who was asking to hear about the proposal and wanting to bestow their congratulations, I was starting to develop a hoarse voice. I was ready to take a little eak from wedding talk. Roger admitted he was losing steam, too. Between the two of us, some 75 friends and family had called us and double that amount had reached us through Facebook.
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Has anyone else been in our shoes? Elated by the engagement but totally exhausted from all the calls, texts, emails, and wall posts? Regardless, I surprised myself when I called Roger late at a night a few evenings later except I wasn't focused on priorities like venues, caterers, and colors, I had shot right past those and onto the itty bitty (in my opinion) oh-so-important details. I wanted to know Roger's opinion on table arrangements and dessert.
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Specifically, "What do you think of little cedar table numbers? When it's time to cut wood on my Grandma's farm this fall, I can ask my Uncle Bruce to save a cedar trunk and saw into medallions?" I was so smitten with this idea, I was sure Roger would be on board. Before I could let him comment, I proposed a second idea. This one was meant to include my French heritage on my mother's side. "And what do you think about playing down the wedding cake and incorporating a crepe station?! Doesn't that sound yummy not to mention unique? I've never heard of a reception having a dessert station with crepes."
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Poor Roger. He'd hit his wedding wall. "Sweetie, I don't think we need to be thinking about this right now. We should be focused on choosing a date, a venue and reserving a caterer. It's late. Can we talk about this in the morning?"
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It was my turn to tell him he was right. Of course, it's pretty hard not to get wound up about the one day most girls grow up dreaming about... and I certainly was one of them. How about any of you? Did you know as a little girl what kind of dress you wanted or where you wanted to get married or about what kind of dessert you wanted served at your wedding? I'd love to hear from you especially since I've only made up my mind about one of those.
