When anyone asks, “How’s wedding planning going?” I have this reaction, this 100% involuntary reaction where my eyebrows scrunch down and my lips purse out and this sigh, long and deep – like I’ve just been handed a blue book and the AP Calculus exam – rushes out. Actually, I probably look like I’m about to take my AP Calculus exam because that thing was utterly confounding. And regarding wedding planning, I am utterly confounded.

You can ask me about the honeymoon and get a totally different reaction, by the way. The “Italy!” tab of the spreadsheet is a masterful work of dates, times, trains, costs, Tuscan villas. Ask me about Italy and you’ll get an earful. And maybe a strange little dance. VILLAS!

For the actual wedding, though, I haven’t really done anything. I mean, except hoard pennies like a squirrel in autumn…you know, wherein pennies are acorns… and I guess that didn’t really work, did it? Anyhow. Maura is handling the invitations. Chef Brother is handling the food. We’ve got a place to have the wedding and there will for sure be wine, so what else could be so important? And this is where my eyebrows start slouching.

How about a wedding dress? I should probably have one of those! The seamstress sent me the specifications for fabric types and amounts and all I have to do is buy it. Which I’ll do as soon as I can find it. Who knew that embroidered silk organza is so hard to come by? Not this girl.

By the time my mom and I got done beating both the pavement and my laptop on Saturday, I was ready to get married in a damn tutu and ostrich feathers.  I did find a really lovely specimen on a UK website, but once I figured in what it would take to ship it, convert from pounds, carry the one… it would have done a sound job of defeating the purpose of making a dress. Oh, hell. Who knows? I might get desperate enough.

I’m a pretty skilled google-r, and I’m running out of options. So, this is me announcing, If you know where a girl can find white/ivory/pearl embroidered silk organza (heck, at this point, I’d take an embroidered polyester organza, if  the pattern was simple and vaguely sophisticated. Read: not busy), I know one who would probably spend Seven Minutes in Heaven with you to get her hands on some. Eh? Takers? I kiss good. I swear.

And here I thought shoes were going to be my hang up.