Oh poppets, I went and got MARRIED on Saturday and didn't even tell you - not because I didn't want to, but because it was utter madness and mayhem leading up to the moment we left New York for our honeymoon. So now I am a missus and have uttered the very strange and wonderful words, "My husband" a few times, just to see what it was like.
As for the wedding - how could anything be nicer than to have Peonies take your photograph (while you are swearing at a stack of unfolded programs an hour before your ceremony while getting your hair done and slapping on a coat of makeup over your extremely dark undereye circles) when you had given up hope that Iceland would ever stop effing up everyone's plans, and then to see the breathtakingly beautiful bouquets that Sarah created, and to know that Elly made it over from London in the nick of time, and to realize that your friends are capable of pulling off feats of incredible and impossible wedding logistics*?
Well, really, nothing is nicer.
Despite an extremely stressful lead-in involving several days of being too crazed to bathe, brush my hair or change my shirt, we had a fantastic party. I cried a lot. And danced a lot. We rocked the socks off a beautiful and slightly staid venue, balancing my love of tradition with my need for Skid Row. When we left, paintings were off-kilter, voices were shattered, and feet were very, very sore. In short, all of my dreams came true (except for the one about Steve Carrell asking me out on a date and then refusing him because I am a woman of high moral virtue).
The next morning, I bawled my eyes out. As in really, really bawled - snotty, drooling, hiccuping crying that can only come from fatigue and heightened emotion and too much intensity of the best and worst possible kinds. And when it was over, I felt tremendous relief mixed with a twinge of inexplicable sadness. Then Fauxhawk gave me a hug and we rallied, hopped in a cab, and joined everyone for a little morning after celebration.
I am writing now from our luna di miele in Positano, where everything seems a little like a dream. I couldn't not write, having dragged you along with me all these months. I'll have more to share when I come home, but in the meantime, I send you tanti bacci from the world's prettiest Crayola box.
*It would not be an exaggeration to say that without my beloved bridesmaids and friends, the wedding would never have come to fruition because I would have been hiding under my desk at work rocking back and forth and sucking my thumb in a state of panic.