In six days I will be on a plane home to Detroit. While I am really looking forward to seeing my family and friends, I can already feel the tension brewing. I have not decided on anything that my mom or stepmom wanted me to colours, places, caterer, groom okay I guess I have settled on the groom.
I know a woman who is getting married the same month as me. She got engaged only a couple months ago and within two weeks she had everything done. She is clearly insane. This could only be possible if for 24 hours a day she maniacally stalked caterers, musicians, and florists - terrorising them until they gave her everything she wanted, exactly how she wanted it. Or I suppose she could just be very organised... no actually I think she must be insane.
In the meantime, I am pretending that none of this is really happening. Happily I am passing my time finishing up my poetry file for my end-of-term teaching assessment, seeing my friends for pre-Christmas get-togethers, visiting with Gareths family, and in general keeping myself in a state of absolute and total denial.
I know it must sound like the idea of my wedding is causing me some sort of agony but this is hardly true. I am in fact ecstatic to marry Gareth. All my friends as well are looking forward to the greatest party ever, and I have no doubt they will be satisfied.
This past week I sat in a pub in Wimbledon discussing just this matter. In fact, I left to grab some food, and came back to find Gareth and all our friends still in a debate over the details. Completely bemused by five men revelling over the details of a wedding I turned to my friend Anthony expecting we would move the conversation away from the subject remember I am in denial after all. He informed me that he had read my diary on this site and had some ideas regarding the quandary over my surname.
I have to laugh. It seems no matter how hard I try to avoid the subject, I am constantly finding myself getting carried away with it. Even I am starting to enjoy myself.
13 December 1999,
Stacie Lewis