Even though my creative expression at the moment is tending more towards the visual, I was thinking that this wedding planning we've started digging into might provide some sorta amusing anecdote or two that I could relate blogstyle, and it turns out that I do have a short tale which amuses me that I can now share.

We're paying for everything ourselves, plus we're not really huge fancy shindig sorta folks to begin with, so our plans are relatively laid back and low-key rather than la-la lavish. We think our ideas are just perfect for us, and I'm sure it will be a very nice time for one and all, but on occasion I was still doing a small bit of worrying that my Mom or someone might end up thinking, "Hmm, this aspect of the proceedings is a tad rinky-dink, is it not?" Which brings us to my humorous vignette.

My mom called me one day last week to check in and see how things were progressing, since I'm not always so good with stuff like, say, sending her an email every now and then to keep her posted. After going through all the various items we'd tackled so far I moved into speculating about what we might decide to do regarding food for the reception... we'll probably use a caterer, but don't really want something where a person would be serving you or have a sit-down meal really, but then what might be some ideas of stuff that could just be sitting out and you could either eat it at a table or carry it around with you if you wanted... when Mom interrupted me with a brainstorm.

"Oh, you know what I've seen some places here that could work - it's those little weiners, the kind that come in a can? And then they're just in a kind of BBQ sauce, and there's a little toothpick in them so it's not messy for people to pick up. Something like that could be nice." I was sorely tempted to reply, "Wait, that's something you've seen around there (meaning San Marcos, TX, where she moved in 2002)? You'd never run across it before? Because that treat was invented in 1952 at the latest, and has shown up at countless festivities I have attended ever since the day I was born. Also, our reception is in an old fire station, not an old trailer park..." But in the end I opted for, "Oh yeah... I've seen those I think. Yeah something along those lines could work... maybe something a little more substantial, it will be dinnertime and all..." while feeling very happy to be reminded that even if we just end up getting pizza Helen isn't going to be embarrassed to tell the ladies at the bridge table about it. She'll be proudly telling them about our "really neat" idea and the exotic Italian cuisine. Which is awesome. I love my mom!