Whoah

I'm getting married in four days. Through many talks with the rabbi, photographer, caterer, and dj, this fact has not really sunk in. I've been preoccupied with illness and the impending arrival of everyone I love in one giant place. Today, after I picked my sister and her family at the airport, a strange thing happened.

We were tucking my nephew safely into his child seat and zooming onto the rush-hour traffic. Richard, my brother-in-law, had to make a phone call to his commodities broker and he said "I'm in Philadelphia...Katy is getting married this Sunday." Suddenly, this intensely strange feeling washed over me. Like I had to pee or was covered in poison ivy.

It's really happening. Somebody has agreed to spend a lifetime with me and they are going to start doing it this Sunday. For real.

In junior high, I would lie awake nearly friendless, greasy haired, pimply skinned. I would suck on my bright green schwartz expander and peer through my enormous glasses and pray that someday, someone would realize that I am not heinous. Somewhere in the universe, someone would appreciate me for all my many oddities. I stuck on a crocheted sweater vest over a knitted sweater and went into the world praying, but never knowing for certain, that my yang was roaming the earth.


But I found him somehow. And he doesn't care that I make up weird songs or make strange faces or even that I sometimes don't shower after rugby practice before I climb into bed. He rubs my back when I freak out and calls me out when I act like a hypocrite. Best of all, he sits on the sofa and eats ice cream straight from the carton and watches The Real World with me on my laptop.

And now, he is going to marry me.

This is going to be awesome.