I have pretty much taken over my poor sister’s wedding. She just let me have too much free rein, what am I supposed to do? She knows me better than that. She knows I can’t handle offers to be even more anal-retentively obsessive than I already am. I need boundaries. The instant you give the slightest inch I’m right there to fill it with crazy.
I haven’t been too bad, yet. I got to design the invitations (did I mention I am the goddess of powerpoint? That’s right, powerpoint. I made that bitch in powerpoint. And it looked awesome.), and the groom’s cake topper (I’m officially a sculptor, now, because this time I added a wire armature underneath and I actually read the baking directions!), and the cocktail napkins, and I helped pick out the cake flavors and all the dresses and gave non-trivial input on the date and the venue and the flowers and the colors. And then she gave me the candy table arrangement. I’m like a fat kid in a magic chocolate forest.
I didn’t even have this much fun with my own wedding. I mean my wedding was awesome and all, don’t get me wrong, but it frankly didn’t matter to me until a few months after the whole thing was over and I realized I was never, ever going to get to do that stuff again. But now I do. Get to do it again, I mean. Kind of. And that is fantastic.
Oh, did I mention the wedding is still three months away? Plenty of time to vault ever higher into even more ridiculous echelons of planning crazy. Maybe when it’s over she’ll let me post the pictures of my totally professional cake topper…