Sometimes I ramble.

My friend Laura and I met for coffee this morning, as we try to do whenever we happen to be in town and free at the same time. We talked about the things we always talk about, updated each other on everything pertinent in our lives. And then she told me about a dream she had last night about getting married, which resulted in her waking up in a panic about all the planning she had left to do. It was just the kind of dream I used to have when I was in the midst of planning my own wedding, except she's not engaged.

We then spent the next fifteen minutes planning my next wedding. It involves renting a clear jet (like Underwater World, but Above the World World, or Inside the Clouds World) and having Ron marry us on the plane while we fly all our friends and family to Vegas, where we start the reception immediately upon landing, win the jackpot at the nearest casino, and then buy the clear jet for future use. Who the "we" is is irrelevant at this point. Whoever the he happens to be, he'll just have to be happy with this, my new plan.

In my defense, thinking about weddings (and mine, in particular) doesn't make me crazy, though I know it sounds like I might be. After all, I spent sixteen months planning one pretty recently. I researched, I compared, I taste-tested, I crafted, I found ways to cut corners, I brainstormed, I booked. All with little to no help from my dearly beloved. (Perhaps something I should have read into, eh? Where was the English major in me then?) Being a bride and planning a wedding were major things going on in my life, things I could turn to to avoid school and family. And then, suddenly, those things were gone. But just because the wedding wasn't there anymore doesn't mean that the whole subject just disappeared from my brain.

For a long time, I hated weddings. They were on my mind constantly, I still checked in on the forum I used to brainstorm with fellow brides, I still looked at all the pictures. But it was with an air of spite and bitterness, and it left me feeling angry and empty. I started to pick apart my own wedding plans, think about what I would do differently, what I still loved about it. I'd tell Pam, "At my next wedding I want [fill in the blank]." She'd just nod and say okay. (She's good like that. In the days and weeks after my wedding, I knew I'd picked her for my maid of honor for a reason.) And then, for a while, weddings just weren't on my mind. I stopped visiting the wedding forum, I stopped visiting my photographer's blog, I stopped being angry and spiteful.

But as it turns out, the topic still didn't leave my mind completely, because every once in a while, some random detail will pop into my head. "I think I'll buy flats to wear at my next wedding." "I wonder who I'll get to do my hair?" "I still love my photographer." (And I do. I visit her blog occasionally still, and she takes some fantastic photos.)

The other day, Jess was watching "Say Yes to the Dress," which led to a discussion between us about my dress. Ah, my dress. My beautiful, fantastic, perfectly flattering dress. It still hangs in my grandma's closet, waiting to be worn. I thought about doing a non-wedding session in it with my photographer, but I haven't gotten around to thinking more about coordinating that yet. Anyway, Jess thinks I should keep it, and wear it next time, and I'm not inclined to disagree. After all, I didn't choose it for him, I chose it for how I felt in it, how it looked on me, how my face lit up when I put it on. He still doesn't know anything about it, save that it's ivory. So why shouldn't I wear it next time instead of spending more money on another? I think it just depends on the when and who of "next time."

It's not that I intentionally think about weddings. I'm really, really in no rush to be thinking about another. I'm not desperate to get married. I just can't help having them in my head sometimes. And for that, I make no apologies.