Things could always go horribly awry.

It's true. No matter how carefully and meticulously you plan every detail, things could always go horribly awry. And, no matter how silly you think all of those "10 Tips for Your Wedding Day" articles may be, I hate to say it, but they're right. How do I know? Because my (official) wedding weekend went horribly awry.

First, a little background.

Mr. Dynamite & I didn't want a big wedding with bridesmaids, groomsmen, rehearsal dinner, vows, sand ceremonies, unity candles, glass-stomping, broom-jumping or any of that. We wanted a simple, quick & easy civil ceremony with a judge, then we would concentrate the bulk of our celebration efforts towards our reception - which we wanted to just be a big party with me wearing a big, fabulous wedding dress.

Still, even though we quickly planned for our marriage to take place at a local judge's office on a random afternoon about two months ahead of our big shindig, we were getting MARRIED and that merits celebration, right? So of course, I needed a dress and a plan. I made dinner reservations for a small group of family and friends. I ordered a lovely dress online about a month before the ceremony and it fit perfectly.

That brings me to wedding rule #1: Make sure everything fits, with time for one last alteration.

As does every bride, I have been actively losing weight. On the Tuesday evening prior to my Friday afternoon ceremony, I thought, "Hey, I should put this dress on." I did, and it didn't fit. In fact, it looked awful. I thought, do I call in sick to work and shop for a new dress tomorrow? Do I take the risk with another online purchase and hope they can ship overnight? Do I scrap the whole beautiful bride concept and get married in something ridiculously ironic? A gorilla suit perhaps, or maybe something fashioned from duct tape?

Thankfully Mr. Dynamite kept a level head, and suggested I contact the alterations shop that was working on my formal wedding gown for the big shindig. I left a frantic voice mail, which was quickly returned with a call to make an appointment Thursday morning. I picked it up Friday morning, and it fit beautifully.

Meanwhile back at our home, this happened.

Wedding rule #2: Always stash extra cash for the unexpected.

We had done some remodeling work in the bathroom fairly recently, and some mortar and grout likely got washed down the drain, cementing with what I imagined to be a collection of hair the size of a dachshund. Just the night before I noticed the tub was draining slowly, but figured a few toxic glugs of drain cleaner would fix it right up. Then came the morning of the wedding ceremony, and the tub - our ONLY tub - sat stagnant with about 3 inches of brackish water diluted with enough Draino to take out a herd of red-ribboned Heathers.

Mr. Dynamite called Roto-Rooter and pleaded his case, stressing that we were to be married within a few hours and neither of us could take a shower. That must have touched the hopeless romantic within the woman on the phone, and she dispatched a repairman to our house immediately. Lyle was just about to take his lunch break but I'll send him right over, she said. Awesome. About 40 minutes and $250 later, we were back in business.

Showered and dressed, the mid-afternoon ceremony was lovely and perfect and went off without a hitch. Now fast forward to about 10:30 that night after much celebration with family and friends.

Wedding rule #3: Don't get hammered.

You would think this rule is fairly obvious. I typically don't get hammered very often, and if I do it's usually a very mild hammered - a pronounced state of tipsiness, if you will. Totally shit-faced hammered just doesn't suit me. Mr. Dynamite is the same way. But you can't underestimate the fact that if you are out where alcohol is served and you just got married, folks are going to buy you drinks. Lots of them. In the excitement and expectation and celebration of the whole day, it's surprisingly easy to become overwhelmed a few drinks too late.

You see, what happens on the rare occasions when Mr. Dynamite & I get too drunk together is we fight over really stupid, insignificant things. The last time it happened I'm pretty sure we argued fiercely over which was cooler: samurais or ninjas.

Our wedding night? I believe it involved a screaming fight over who does more laundry (he does), the throwing of wedding bands, us parting ways for a very blurry stretch of time, and I'm pretty sure I got fresh with an Elvis impersonator on Beale Street. There was much more to the evening, as evidenced by the botanic remains of my bridal bouquet throughout our honeymoon suite, but none of it involved what one would expect on the night of our wedding. We woke up bleary-eyed the next painfully bright morning and asked each other with thick, furry tongues, "What the hell happened?" After nursing our hangover for a good 24 hours (it was, by far, the worst hangover I've ever had), little bits and pieces of the night began to surface in embarrassing clarity, and with the help of a few witness accounts we realized what monumental asses we had made of ourselves. Then we laughed. A lot.

So was the wedding ruined? Of course not. The wonderful moments filled with love and laughter far outweighed our collection of  little disasters. Sure, I would've rather spent the night romancing with my new husband, but now we have a ridiculous story to tell, several lessons learned, and the rest of our lives to canoodle sweetly into the morning.

Don't sweat the details.

It is so easy for a bride to lose herself in every single detail of the big day. I myself am guilty of spending countless hours on Pinterest, carefully weighing various techniques to transform wine bottles, soup cans and toilet paper rolls into show-stopping MacGyvered centerpieces. I squeal with delight over exquisitely hand-lettered invitations, with whimsical calligraphy glistening with crushed opals and hibiscus ink. A tiny, adorable succulent tied to every place setting with a delicate bit of twine? Yes, please.

Before long I had a stack of Martha Stewart Weddings magazines stacked in my bathroom, my legs desperate for circulation as I slowly thumbed through the pages, determining if I should monogram my beverage napkins, provide a frozen berries and champagne bar, and serve artfully slivered crudites in sauce-coated shot glasses. I would limp away from the bathroom, legs screaming with tingling vein fire, wondering if I could find a salon that could do an ombre manicure to match my bouquet made entirely of vintage brooches.

The truth is yes, you want everything to be perfect, but think back to the best, most fun wedding you've ever been to. What do you remember about it? I'll bet bits of twine don't make the list.

Indulging in the details is half the fun of planning a wedding, but not when it starts to dictate how much fun you have in the ACTUAL planning. You won't realize how caught up in the details you become until you start pulling out that credit card, which I realized as the looming decision of renting real linen napkins or using paper napkins nearly gave me an aneurism. It occurred to me that it was highly unlikely that guests leaving our wedding would skulk away, mumbling to each other, "Well, that would've been fun had it not been for those ghastly paper napkins. I mean, would you ever? Their marriage is clearly doomed." Possible, I suppose, but unlikely.

So, I let go. I'm not sweating the details, and planning is fun again. The challenge of creating a fun, funky event on a sphincter-tight budget, all while remaining true to our personal style, is back to being an adventure as opposed to a chore. Plus, Mr. Dynamite appreciates the fact I no longer pester him with color swatches and catering spreadsheets.

Some of the aspects of the event that I decided have no bearing on the fun factor are:

Tableware: Nobody cares of you have platinum-rimmed china with a 20-piece setting.
Glassware: Booze works in any receptacle. I have tested this theory rigorously, and feel confident in that statement.
Centerpieces: This will get its very own post later, but my plan involves about $200, a small army of friends and lots of wine. Sure, a blooming cloud of rare orchids suspended in crystal glass is stunning, but is there a story behind it that will make you spew wine out your nose? I didn't think so.
Linens: Black. eBay. Done.

Whenever I do drift into that manic, detail-obsessed state, I just look at the ring on my finger, think of Mr. Dynamite and how blessed we are to be in love, and leave the details to the magazines in the bathroom.

TCB, y'all.

Taking care of business, baby, that's what I've been doing. Through trial and a whole lot of error, I'm finally making sense of this whole planning a wedding gig, and I hope sharing my efforts will help some other clueless bride aspiring for fabulousness on a dime.

As mentioned in my earlier post, sh*t happens. I started out with a set idea of how much I could spend, and that all went to hell with the first disaster. But, that simply challenged me to make up for the unexpected costs by saving in other areas.

First, the dress.

It's the very first thing you get excited about, the prospect of trying on and twirling about in what you hope will be the most beautiful article of clothing you will ever wear. You proudly purchase your armful of bridal magazines, flashing the ring as proof that you are entitled to these magazines and not seeking a desperate escape within its glossy pages of duchess satin and peonies.You harness your inner fashion critic, looking with disdain at mermaid silhouettes and pondering fingertip veils.

Then, as you go to make your first dress appointment, you envision it transpiring like an episode of "Say Yes to the Dress," with a patient and understanding attendant, a gaggle of annoying, opinionated, yet well-meaning girlfriends, and a flamboyant floor manager who saves the day in the 11th hour with the perfect dress, and what the heck, here's a free veil, and the designer is here in the store and wants you to have the dress for free because he is so moved by your obvious bridal radiance. Tears are shed, complimentary champagne is poured, and you are transformed into the vision of perfection you never thought possible.

Ladies, it doesn't go down like that.

After a frightening, Black Friday-esque experience at a local bridal retailer, I turned to the internet. I realized I could have the exact dress I wanted on eBay for around $200. All I had to do was provide a litany of precise measurements, many of which perplexed me with their relevance to dressmaking, and select my preferred fabric swatch from a rainbow of shades like "Seafoam #52" or "Bone Ivory" or "Enchanted Twilight" (which, by the way, is dark purple). Then, as I read the detailed description of the whole ordering and shipping process, one detail became very prominent in every listing. Engrish. Yes, I want a "happy love lifetime" dress, and I understand that "no back send 30 day purchase after time," but thoughts of sweaty 8-year-olds huddled over bolts of Bone Ivory, steadily sewing seed pearls onto Vera Wang knock-offs for their sick mother's daily gruel, just didn't seem right.

So I went to the Barefoot Bride.

This delightful boutique is the frugal bride's dream. Rows and rows of dresses line the east Memphis shop, all full of an extraordinary selection of every style gown imaginable. This is a consignment shop, so while some gowns are "gently used," most are brand-new with tags. Thank goodness for fickle brides.

The Barefoot Bride is usually by appointment, but they will have open shopping days a few times a month. Just know that there is usually a wait for dressing rooms on open days. The best way to find out about open shopping days & new inventory is to follow them on Facebook.

I just happened to pop in on an open-shopping Saturday, with the intention of browsing their inventory and making an appointment if I found something I liked. I was by myself, and was looking for that aforementioned dream experience of finding the perfect gown, so I didn't want to try anything on without the thumbs-up or thumbs-down of my trusted besties. But the intoxicating effect of lace, silk and thousands of tiny little buttons were too much, and I gleefully added gown after gown to my growing dressing room queue.

Once I finally got in to a dressing area, it was a little awkward to be doing this alone... the shop owner - who was delightfully helpful - was tackling the day alone, and was busy wrangling a store full of eager brides and their entourages. It was hard to get into the dresses alone, and even harder to walk out for a twirl in front of the mirrors without the incredulous gasps of my own bridal posse. In the end, however, I found THE dress. It was a little hard to get into, and I only had onlookers with other brides to comment on its perfection, but that didn't change that feeling I had, that PERFECT feeling I had, as I saw myself for the first time as the bride that I wanted to be.

And better yet, the dress was only 400 bucks.

Go there:
The Barefoot Bride Boutique

4726 Poplar Ave #3

Memphis, TN 38117

901-481-6906

www.barefootbrideboutique.com

thebarefootbride@hotmail.com

facebook.com/thebarefootbride.boutique

Keep calm and carry on.

I suppose this saying is considered cliche, given that I've seen it adorned on stickers and decorative pillows. But with every cliche there is a foundation of truth, and I tested this one to its limits in the months since my last post here.

Every bride expects bumps in the road when it comes to planning a wedding, and I had no delusions of grandeur that my experience would be any different. That said, I was not prepared for the series of events that effectively derailed my wedding plans, and had me seriously considering two plane tickets to Vegas.

In January, I felt ahead of the game. My mother was thrilled beyond words that her 38-year-old daughter was FINALLY getting married. Mr. Dynamite's father and stepmother immediately started calling me their daughter-in-law. We had a perfect, and free, wedding ceremony planned for just the 5 of us prior to the reception. We had a reception hall that was practically free. Albeit the venue was a bit design-challenged, but I embraced the notion of transforming a church hall with a low, acoustic-tile ceiling and cinder-block walls into a gorgeous & funky party space through the magic of crafting, friendship and wine.

Then mom went into the hospital. This was a relatively regular occurrence, given she was 85 years old with congestive heart failure, and I remained confident she would recover just as she always had. I decided to check out an open house at a bridal consignment shop during a break from being at the hospital, and ended up purchasing my perfect wedding dress. The vision of the wedding had not wavered.

As mom recovered, as I expected she would, she died. Just all of a sudden, not 30 minutes after I had spoken with her on the phone, she died. The wedding became the absolute farthest thing from my mind, except for the heartbreaking thought that she would never see me get married. Her heart finally gave out just three days before her birthday on Valentine's Day. I mourned, and tended to her estate. Sometimes I forget that she's gone, and pick up my phone to call her.

Now it's April, and I'm ready to get back on the ball with the wedding. I call the church to ask about seating, tables, linens, building access, etc. and was told by a very flustered church assistant she would have to call me back. Thinking I had simply called her at a bad time I thought nothing of it. Then she called back. We could not use the reception hall for our date, or any other date that month. It was a church booking and not a wedding booking, so it was on a different calendar and she had missed it. Oops, so sorry.

Thankfully, I had two back-to-back weekends out of town, so there was no time for panic. I distributed lists of possible venues to a couple of friends, and started compiling places with potential. I took a morning off from work so Mr. Dynamite and I could go check some places out, and while we spent a little more than we had planned, we found the perfect place.

The moral of the story, well, that takes us back to the very beginning - keep calm and carry on. Don't panic. Everything may not work out the way you want, but with the help and support of those you love, you'll be just fine.

Mom being silly and fabulous, circa 1946

And so it begins.

Am I really getting married? After 38 years on this earth, many of them spent thinking I would most likely end up loveless, homeless, and eating cat food in my later years, I found my perfect match. So yes, the magic moment arrived, and I am getting married.

My fiance (which I still haven't gotten used to calling him that) proposed on December 17th while we were in New Orleans, on a beautiful, sunny afternoon in Jackson Square. He said he wanted me to be able to point at any photo of the NOLA landmark and say, "There. He proposed to me RIGHT THERE." Sweet, huh?

And so it begins. I have obsessed on Pinterest, spent countless hours on every bridal website I can click on, and I even broke down and bought an armful of bridal magazines. After many beer-fueled conversations with my fiance - which from this point on I will call "Mr. Dynamite" since the word fiance really weirds me out - we have created a vision. A crazy, unconventional, DIY, shoestring budget vision. I can't say I know exactly what I'm doing, but I feel relatively confident that we can pull this whole wedding thing off.

We'll see. Wedding, AHOY!