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.