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I suppose I should apologize for the delay in posting — It’s been more than a week and a half. Of course those readers who know me know that I’m less than a week to the wedding, so perhaps my silence is forgivable.

Here’s the official wedding report: We’ve got our ducks in a row. Everything is arranged, signed for, paid for, organized, scheduled, set up and ready to go. Most of this hyper-organization is due to the frantic efforts of The Mother-In-Law™. The Fiancée™ and I have been considerably more laid back about the whole situation; we’re largely treating the wedding in the same way that we would treat running a small SCA event: make a list, assign jobs to responsible people, trust that it’ll all work out and refrain from panicking if it doesn’t. The Mother-In-Law™ clearly doesn’t share our laissez-faire approach to the situation and there’s been some tension.

I shouldn’t complain though: there’s an astonishing amount of stuff that has to get arranged for even the simplest wedding (and we’re deliberately keeping it simple) and I’m sure that without her efforts we’d have missed something important. But right now the best advice we’ve gotten about the wedding so far is: “Just enjoy the party. If everyone has fun and at the end of the day you’re married, the wedding was a success.” I think that’s the attitude that’s going to get us through this without driving ourselves (or other people) completely mad.

My Mum™ and aunt came up yesterday for what we’re now calling Pre-Wedding Week. Rather than crash with us or stay in a hotel, they took advantage of the fact that we live in cottage country and rented a very nice cabin on a lake about half an hour from town. It’s a charming little cedar-roofed lakeside cottage… at the end of a transmission-shattering, ill-maintained private road with a 30-degree-plus slope and ruts big enough to swallow my Subaru. Getting into and out of there after dark is going to be entertaining: we helped them “move in” yesterday and stayed for dinner; and we’ll be out there again this afternoon and we’ll probably spend the night rather than challenge that slope in the dark. The autumn colours out there are absolutely beautiful… even if it’s bloody cold. We’ve already had frost, and this week is supposed to be that crisp, clear weather we’d been hoping for… we just have to remember to dress for it.

My siblings (I’m one of five) and their various significant-others are all coming into town on Thursday, and My Dad™ is flying in from Alberta and will be joining us at the cottage for a barbeque that night. (In order to help defuse any post-Parental Divorce™ awkwardness I plan on aiming The Best Man™ at him and they can talk archery and bow-making for hours.) Then, assuming we can get back up that lane, we’ll return to town for Friday’s wedding rehearsal (and dinner)… followed, of course, by The Day, which has been planned and scheduled to a fare-thee-well. At some point after the florist, the hair salon, getting set up, getting suited up, taking photos and meeting our officiant and the arrival of the guests I’m going to get married. It’s definitely on the schedule (I checked.)

At this point, I just want to get through The Day.

Over a three-year engagement The Day has loomed bigger and bigger, rather like the ground from the perspective of a skydiver. Sure, you can ignore it early on and have a lot of fun on the ride, but right near the end it rather dominates the attention and there comes a point where you’re clutching a ring in your hand and hoping everything works the way its supposed to.