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<p>The wedding is over, now what are we going to talk about?</p><p>My obsession with the planning of this event resulted in me chewing my cuticles to bloody stumps, a new little bald patch nestled on the side of my head and basic agita. Despite my self-inflicted torment, it went surprisingly well. I don&#8217;t know how, I cannot explain why, but there were very few pockets of bad news.</p><p>Bad news: Two hours prior to the rehearsal dinner, my daughter informed me that we forgot to pen place cards for the table assignments. Can&#8217;t I just stand at the entrance and direct people to seats using the same hand gestures I use when rotating around the airport circle? Or a bull horn. I always wanted to use a bull horn.</p><p>Good news: There&#8217;s a Michaels Crafts in every one-cow town from here to Oxnard, Calif. and back again. Michaels saved me. As well as a Dunkin&#8217; Donuts, CVS and Panera. I fact, I would&#8217;ve been happy to have a wedding at Panera with just bagels and creamy tomato soup. That&#8217;s a win-win right there.</p><p>Bad news: People dropped by who never returned their RSVP cards.</p><p>Good news: Who cares? But they were on their own figuring out where to sit. I was worn out after my place card/fancy writing marathon and residual follow-up whining episode.</p><p>Bad news: People did not attend who RSVP&#8217;d that they would be there.</p><p>Good news: Who cares? More food for us and the entire wait staff, their families and the cows grazing on the property.</p><p>Advice: Always under-estimate. Except in case of Kripsy Kreme procurement. Then over-estimate.</p><p>Bad news: Champagne fizzes and overflows when someone gulps it straight from the bottle. Who knew? It exploded down the entire front of my fancy, beleaguered, mother-of-the-bride gown. I guess I should&#8217;ve used a bendy straw. So classy.</p><p>Good news: My gown was the same color as the champagne! It was worth it. *hiccup*</p><p>Bad news: It was nippy and I left my wrap in my hotel room.</p><p>Good news: Who cares? That champagne made everything OK.</p><p>Good news: I had my hair and make-up done by a professional who apparently drew the short straw. I felt like Mariah Carey sans boobies.</p><p>Bad news: I think I was allergic to the glue they applied to fuse the false eyelashes to my sparse, original ones. There was a lot of glue, but I say, beauty hurts, so glob it on. She did. For the rest of the wedding I was dabbing at my eyes. Everyone assumed I was crying weepy-wedding tears, but I was leaking from the omnipresent sting around my cornea.</p><p>By the time I returned to the hotel, my right eye began to shut on its own accord. I drank some more champagne from a Dixie cup and went to bed.</p><p>The next morning, my eye simply wouldn&#8217;t open; glued shut like Al Capone&#8217;s vault. I felt my way along the walls to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth in hot water and slapped it over my face. People were waiting for us at breakfast. The bride. The groom. My bagel and cream cheese and do-it-yourself-waffle bar.</p><p>I pried that damn eye open and I won&#8217;t go into graphic detail, but picture the inside of an oyster. Yes, that nasty.</p><p>Good news: I was still able to eat my complimentary breakfast and wave bon voyage to the new bride and groom.</p><p>More good news: It was one of the very best days of my entire life. I lied. I actually was crying weepy-wedding tears.</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck</p><p>Life Deconstructed</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck of West Pittston is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: First comes love, then marriage, then exploding champagne