Small town style.

Chris has been handling researching, contacting, and getting quotes from caterers for our wedding, and I've been secretly, fervently feeling grateful for this as the appetizer choices alone make my head spin. I told him "thank you" the other day and he said, "No offense, but you couldn't handle this, babe."

I was insulted for a little while but deep down I knew it was true. If I was in charge of finding the caterer you'd all be eating Domino's pizza at my reception AND LIKING IT.

Evidence for the prosecution regarding my inability to coordinate: I'm supposed to be handling florists, something I'm excited about. Why then did I wait till five days BEFORE my trip to Virginia to start making preliminary Google searches, phone calls, and asking for appointments? Did I really think I could just show up?

The week before Valentine's Day?

However, so many things for the wedding have fallen very casually into place despite my best efforts at fretting and complicating them (location, officiant, photographer, suit, dress, hair stylist, and, knock on wood, rehearsal dinner) that I have a feeling the florist who works out of her house up the lane from my mom's house is going to be the one. Just like the way I have the feeling the people who own the house next door to my mom's and on whose property Chris and I had the best February day ever sledding two years ago* (and whose parents sold my mom's husband his land decades ago) AND who coincidentally run a restaurant and catering company could easily wind up being our food choice.

Word-of-mouth totally beats the Internet.

*Aha! Sledding! Another one for the list.