Yesterday around noon, Kristie and I prepared ourselves. The minute Ellie got home, we were going to take her out to lunch and then make her shop for wedding dresses. We met another one of the bridesmaids (who goes to the college I went to), and got some lunch.
Ellie is going to have eight attendants. Which means we need to get on ordering dresses right this second. One month and eight attendants to outfit....
While at lunch we learned that the Groom has found what sounds like will be the location. Woo-hoo! Get that puppy reserved so we can make some inviatations. Cause those have to go out, yesterday.
We bid Groom good-bye and hopped across the street to the bridal shop. We explained the situation to the nice lady working there and she sent us out into the racks. Kristie found the most beautiful, perfect dress on the racks and Ellie tried it on. Perfect. Beautiful. Amazing. Wow. She tried on one more to make sure we weren't just four girls who were too excited to be in a bridal shop. Nope. That was the perfect, amazing, beautiful dress. I went over and got the employee to explain to Ellie how easy letting the sides out a fraction of an inch would be. She got back in the dress.
There was almost weeping with joy. We showed her how easily the little tiny bit of altering could be done well within the month. She got back out of the dress and on the phone with her Mom while we three bridesmaids spent some quality time hunting for our dresses. The Dress is held for twenty-four hours and her mother is going to come and see it today. Bridesmaid dresses... we found a style that can be ordered in the right color and can be shipped here in time. It's a bit pricey, but we're putting on a wedding in a month. Ellie fucking rocks and so she's trying to keep all eight of us in mind. A nice, simple, fairly universally flattering dress.
Seriously, I have been so lucky where wedding apparel is concerned. I was in my father's wedding when I was six (he was marrying Nikki's Mom who was nineteen at the time) and she actually let Shelly and I pick out the style of dress (chock full of "ruffles, lace and crap" as my mother and grandmother would (and did) say) and each wear the color of our choosing. I wore pink and Shelly wore purple, and, for at least the next ten years, I blamed that dress for everything pink I received (after that, I started blaming the sorority). Mom and Grandma made those dresses for us. The Maid of Honor wore yellow... I still don't really understand.
Senior year of college I was in Chris's wedding and she let us pick the dresses. She said she didn't really care as long as the color was right. We ended up picking out a pattern and some fabric and having our mothers make them. I've worn that dress since. Actually more than once. It's a pretty dress.
And now it looks like aside from the color (a sort-of cranberry, maroon color), which might not be my best, I think I am going to get lucky a third time. Ellie has great taste and she understands how simple a dress needs to be if it is going to look good on all of us.
I came home and talked about taking a nap (while poor Ellie went ring shopping and gift registering until eleven pm). Writer Guy and I went out to dinner. I am like 95% sure that after all that worrying, he's really not leaving. I came home, put on my pajamas and hopped into my bed (at not yet ten pm). Kristie came up and asked me I'd go to the dorms with her to get the rest of her stuff.
There was much drama while we were trying to park, but we got it all worked out, forty minutes later. We needed the campus safety/watch/police whatever it is number, and so I started calling random numbers belonging to the dorms and begging people to look it up for me. Two people put forth valiant efforts, but no one could find it. I called Jeff in Cleveland and he couldn't find it on the website either. I did eventually find it in Kristie's room and everything is fine now.
I checked in with my outdated college-id and up we went to the seventeenth floor of one of the towers. We spent some time assessing the moving situation, and then decided to load up one big Rubbermaid container, the three drawer tower, a bag and a rolling hamper. It looked like a good first load.
While waiting for the elevator, I learned what's wrong with her floor. I met some of the girls up there. I understand now.
There was much giggling and drama as we tried to get the rolling three drawer cart with the big rubbermaid container resting on top into the elevator. More trying to get it out. We decided to leave me checked in to the dorm until we'd managed to get the stuff into the car. Walking out of the building, I lost a wheel. Kristie told me not to worry about it.
Around the next corner, I lost another wheel. We put it back on and kept trying. I want to let y'all know that if this had happened where I went to college, people would have been coming out of nowhere to help us. At UK, they walk on by and leave us to continue our limping giggling journey. Okay, they also sneer and do some giggling of their own. The wheel fell off again and I put it in my pocket. It was the front wheels that fell off. So, we had to lift the front end up while holding the other container on top and sort of walking backwards.
That lasted for about five steps each time before the lid would pop off the drawers. Pause. Snap back on. Continue.
Half way we switched. Kristie totally got what was so hard about the big pile of rubbermaid containers, now with only two wheels. But eventually we managed to control the giggles and get to the loading area. Then I stood there feeling like some abandoned child no one picked up for Christmas break (having visions of the year my mother was twenty-four hours late picking me up from the dorms. She just kept calling back and telling me she hadn't left yet... for twenty-four hours. I did not wait in the parking lot, obviously). Kristie brought the car around and we loaded it up and parked again to go check me out of the dorms. It had been three hours at that point and we managed one load.
The rest has to get done today, but I haven't been enlisted to help yet.
