30 days, on the dot. As I stare out my window onto the overcast Portland streets, I start to get nervous about our unprotected beach wedding. Being a native Oregonian, I love rain. Most people do not. I envision water, and satin, and sand.
My backup plan: eff backup plans. I want to get married on the beach.
I've spent this past year staying up at night worrying about napkins, and marshmallows, and garland. My teeth have been ground to nubs and the bags under my eyes might be permanent. It's not pretty.
Then I woke up the other morning and realized that I just don't care anymore. I've got a box of garlands somewhere in my apartment, a dress hanging in the closet, and a handsome man peacefully snoring away in the next room. That's all I need.
On my wedding day I'm going to get up and throw on my gown. Take a couple tequila shots. Slap on some mascara. And if it rains I will throw my arms up with delight, peer up at the sky, and jump in every puddle I encounter.
Image by James Jowers via Flickr commons