I want to think that love – and I speak of MARRIAGE love – knows no reason or limits.

One day. Hmm.

How does one know even? How does it feel? Is it something penciled into a planner, or is it a hurricane of flowers? I feel like it’s got to be a combination of the two. 1/2 retarded impulsiveness, 1/3 logistical reasoning, and 47/59’s the grace of God.

Now, I’m not a simple person. I don’t mean to boast that I’m complex, but I am not at all like hey – you’ll do! But how will it happen? Will it ever? Please? When and where?

And when it’s over – what will it feel like? Does your finger grow a warm feeling? Are you changed?

Either way, I shall now muse over the crucial elements. Mind you, I have recently had an epiphany: if you are marrying someone you love – this is all that matters. Everything else is inconsequential – except for the presence of everyone lovely in your life to help you celebrate.

But that being said: Crucial components: vats of free hot bacon, bare feet, ‘bridesmaids’ who have each had at LEAST a bottle of champagne a piece and have picked their own dress, dirty Kroger cake with confetti, Goldfish crackers, some pretty view of some kind, my messy hair, an ivory dress that hugs my waist i hope, purple flowers, happy parents, cornish hens for the throwing, ridiculous amounts of love, laughter, a marriage bed, and moon made o’ honey someplace pretty and strange.

Let nothing ever be stupid; forced, contrived. Let me never follow rules and not even wear shoes. Let everything be real.