Tuesday, December 12, 2006


When you plan a wedding it is inevitable you will obsess about something. Some about the color of the napkins and others about the food. For me it was a photo slide show that I painstakingly put together featuring at least one photo of mostly everyone at the wedding that attended.

I gathered the photos from old college and family photo albums. I emailed relatives far away for photos even my parents hadn't seen. I called E's Aunt in Califoria for ones of him as a child he didn't know about. Needless to say I lost a lot of sleep over the project but the end result was over 200 amazing photos spanning all periods of our life with friends and family - the focus on them and not us.

The day of the wedding the slide show started. We had planned for it to run on a loop on a big screen that came down dramatically from the ceiling while people were finishing eating and walking around before dessert. Instead they sat glued in their seats laughing and watching each and every photo from all the various eras.

When the slideshow got to about 40 photos all of the sudden the loop began and started right back to the beginning. I panicked. It played the same 40 once more and than looped again. Where were the other 160 photos I had gathered?

I don't have many regrets from my wedding but that is the biggest one. Tonight while fishing through an old box from the basement I came across those CDs. It sounds super dramatic but my stomach drops each time I pop in the cds and remember which ones never made it to the big screen.

The bottom line is that people enjoyed the night and most importantly I married my husband. In the end people did get something from the slideshow and I guess when it comes down to it only I knew what they were missing.


I hate when you go into a store that has the potential for some silly Christmas stocking stuffer type gifts but it’s called something embarrassing like, “Bedazzled Jazzy Jams” or something of the like and you hope and pray you don’t run into anyone you know – and then when you enter the doors of BJJ they act like you’ve just walked through the doors of Bergdorf Goodman and ask you to please ‘check your bag’ which is the size of a 4x6 photo in fear you might steal something from the store which is no bigger than an ice cream truck. And worse - once you make it through high security the ‘bouncer’ of Bedazzled Jazzy Jams – a large man with a skull and dagger tattoo on his forearm - hands you a tiny wicker basket lined with blue and white gingham fabric and asks that you please put any merchandise you may want to buy in the basket as you walk around. And then you say all tough and annoyed,
“What if I don’t want to carry a basket?” which is overheard by the sourpuss cashier who flashes a stern glance to the Bedazzled Jazzy Jams bouncer who at this point looks like he might take you out back - so you are then forced to grab the stupid basket and walk around the store like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz without her Toto.

I hate that.

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