Not really though. I honestly don't even know when I met my boy. He technically is a man (and a wonderful one at that), but I love the song or at least the montage from "Father of Bride" so much I have to use it here. Please watch the video if you've never seen the movie before. I dare you to not cry your eyes out. Oh wait... only stressed out brides-to-be and their mothers cry at this point in the movie so please hand the tissue box over to me.
My dad isn't mortgaging our house like George Banks and my day-of coordinator is a nice woman named Joann instead of a crazy Frenchman, but I'm hoping that I'll be as happy as Annie. I didn't meet my fiance in Rome, but I'm getting an Italian last name. (My adorable Italian grandmother thinks that this is wonderful - even though I'm the Italian and my fiance is 100% Puerto Rican.)
I'm going to chronicle the joys (and probably sorrows) of wedding planning here. I'm can't wait to head for wedded bliss, but I know that I'm climbing a steep mountain here. I'm hoping that this will become a habit, so please stick with me. And feel free to begin to mock me if my posts aren't regular.
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