I am stubbornly and gracelessly learning this lesson over and over: there is no shame in asking for help.
Allow me to explain:
Since many of my lady friends have left Tallahassee recently due to their graduation (or never lived here anyways, I’m talking about you, Irene), I feel a little isolated in this wedding-planning process. So I feel awkward branching out and asking for help and advice in different places.
This weekend I spent probably 14–or more, probably more–hours putting together the (damn) invitations. I say damn invitations because I’ll be damned before I ever do anything like that again. Everything that could go wrong, pretty much did.
First off, the invitations arrived a week later than I expected. Exclusively Weddings did have good prices but they were misleading on the printing/shipping timeline. Before I placed my order the website claimed the invitations would arrive in 7-10 business days. Somehow after I placed my order I was notified they would arrive in 15-17 business days. When they arrived I had 3 days to get them together by the time-line I set up for myself. I wanted them out on or before March 1, but I didn’t put them in a post office drop box on March 3. I admit 2 days late is not the end of the world, but it still stings like a failure.
I got the invitations and them started making RSVP cards. I waited to make these for two reasons. I wanted to make sure the card stock matched. More importantly, I wanted to be sure I didn’t make the RSVP cards too big and thus too heavy and then have to pay extra postage.
I started the process of making RSVP cards on Wednesday, Feb 27. I bought two colors of card stock one a wine color and the other a lighter color pink. I already had the ecru card stock left over from the Save the Dates on which I printed the RSVP and accommodations, etc. information.
2) Cut out a larger wine colored card and a smaller pink card.
3)Glue the RSVP card to the light pink.
4)Mount the light pink on the wine colored card.
5)And on the back of that mount the accommodations card.
On a good hour I could do about 8 of these. And I needed 56 or so. You do the math. So that was Wednesday, Thursday, and most of Friday night after I got home from work. I finished these by 11:30ish Friday night.
Saturday morning I got up early and went to get my hair cut. I was complaining to my stylist about this ridiculous, stupid, meaningless, degrading, time-consuming, idiotic, asinine process that I only have to go through because of fake etiquette and…you get the idea. She asks, “Why don’t you ask someone for help?”
Oh gee I don’t know. Weakness, vulnerability, failure. Plus I would, you know, have to actually accept help. For better or worse, I was one of those students who in group projects would try to have a hand in every detail to make sure my grade wasn’t being sabotaged by someone else’s sub-par labors.
After my cut I went home to melt-down at my printer for not accepting the unsuitably sized envelopes. They were obviously made that ridiculous size by some half-baked, or (more likely) malicious corporate gods of stationery to make me to rue the day I penny-pinched and didn’t give my arm and leg to have them arrive pre-printed.
Let me just say, wedding invitation etiquette is unequivocally idiotic: envelopes within envelopes within envelopes with names all over the dang place and oh my god never again. Who thought of this senseless paper wasting nonsense? And why didn’t I know this was what I was ordering?
Since the printer refused the dimensions of the envelopes, that left me hand-writing every single delivery and return address. And putting envelopes within envelopes and orienting things correctly so that if the receiver opened it with their right hand they wouldn’t have to turn it to read it and all sorts of BULL.
When I was at my wits end, I caved and asked Daniel to please lick the envelopes. (No, I did not invest in one of those nifty envelope wetter sponge things, thankyouverymuch).
I could have avoided all this drama if I had done one simple thing: call some friends in Tallahassee. Fed them and asked them to Please for the love of God HELP ME. But that would have meant I am not alone on my island of superiority far from the land of mediocrity, but that I am, in fact, a native of the land mediocrity. But since I’m learning, I want to re-name that to the land of “nobody’s-perfect-so-let’s-be-vulnerable-and-depend-on-one-another.”
P.S. I should probably at sometime reflect on why I feel the need to conform to these traditions when I do not want to be wanting to conform.