Well, the inevitable has happened.

Three more sleeps.  Two sick marrieds-to-be.  One slightly worried bride.

This process of planning and preparing the wedding has been totally fine.  A million things to keep track of.  A billion details to manage and execute.  Everything planned and prepared in totality.

And we're brought down by a bug.

Matt's definitely feeling it worse than I am.  I've just got a little tickle; he's got a full blown knock 'em out head cold.  While groggy, weavy, drunky-seeming sick Matt is usually entertaining, three days before the wedding is a little nerve-wracking!

The good news, one way or another we're going to be wed in four days.  Papers will be signed, vows will be recited, a party will be enjoyed by all our guests.

The sucky part is that I hope we can fully enjoy it.  I hope we get well enough that we're not coughing and sneezing and wheezing our way through what is otherwise going to be one of the most incredible days of our lives.

This is a bit of a whiny post.  But it's also a plea for help.  We've got our chicken soup.  We've got our Cold FX.  We're pumping ourselves full of vitamins.  Please send your good vibes and healing wishes.  Send good thoughts.  Any you can spare.

Sigh.

One week to go. Seven days. 168 hours, give or take.

Throughout the entire process of planning a wedding, I have considered myself to be a pretty "chill" bride. Stuff has gotten done.  Decisions have been made when decisions have needed to be made.  Creative touches, check.  And I'm on track with getting it all ready.  I really believe that.  There's not a tonne left to do, and there's ample time to do it.

And yet....

It's weird.  I'm so excited to be marrying the love of my life.  So excited for such a special day with friends and family.  But there's this weird pressure that comes as soon as it's a *wedding*.  It has to be the most incredible, most amazing, high point of your entire life, your existence is culminating in this moment kind of day.  Which, to be perfectly honest, I think is pretty much on track to be the case.  I have no doubt that our wedding day will be full of the ultimate amazingness.  It's just that it is supposed to be this that the weird pressure creeps up.

I suppose that this could be anticipation, but it doesn't feel quite the same.  With anticipation, the time drags by.  With this, it seems to speed closer with this undercurrent of dread that everything won't get done.  Which is silly.  As it stands, they'll be people, a person legally capable of marrying people, food, booze and tunes.  Everything else is superfluous details.  Superfluous details that are, by and large, complete.  If I don't remember to buy dental floss for the bathroom baskets, I'm pretty sure people won't walk out.

If you do, you're a jerk.

I've really enjoyed this process, and, because of that, I hate to see it marred by this late onslaught of stressy weirdness.  So I'll try to chill out.  And go buy the dental floss.

Flour Power.

So, because of the wedding, and, specifically, because of the wedding pictures, I've been working with a personal trainer for the past eight months.  For three hours a week I subject myself to excruciatingly hard work and pain.  The result of this masochism?  I've actually gained about 15 pounds.  I'm sure it's mainly comprised of muscle, but it still sucks.  And it's frustrating.  I've been working so hard, and getting so much stronger; I would have liked some change in how my jeans fit.

So, I expressed this to my personal trainer yesterday.  And we chatted a bit about potential symptoms... do I feel bloaty, how are my joints, what do I usually eat... and (insert the guttural wail here) he thinks I might be allergic to gluten.  (Noooooooooooooooo!  All my best friends are made of wheat!  Sweet whole wheat pasta!  My darling bruschetta on fluffy French bread!  Not my whole wheat buttermilk pancakes!)

This is a terribly sad day.  And not just because I adore gluten.  (If I weren't marrying Matt I would consider  proposing to gluten.  I love gluten so much that I keep it locked up in my closet in a cage so that I can love gluten whenever I want to, whether gluten wants to be loved or not.)  It's also really frustrating.  Why could I not have figured this out a couple of months ago so that I could have dropped the extra weight before the wedding?

I hate being one of those girls who prattles on about her weight, but the truth is I kind of am one.  It's been something I think about at least three times a day every day since I was 10 years old.  To think that something that I love so much (Scrumptious whole grain grilled cheese sandwiches!) could potentially be a large part of what has caused me so much pain over the years, not to be melodramatic about it.

I'm whining now.  That's lame.

So... THE POINT...  I'm going to cut gluten out of my diet for the next two weeks until the wedding.

It's going to suck.

(Multigrain Toast slathered in butter!  Oh, multigrain toast....)

Grey.

Today has been a grey day.  The clouds lumbering overhead mirror my general state of disgruntledness.  I recognize, of course, that I am one of the luckiest girls on the planet.  A few weeks from marrying the love of my life, a wonderfully supportive family, a comfortable home full of fun toys to entertain me... I know I am fully blessed.  And yet, the human condition requires that we continually strive to have it all.

The "all" that I'm missing is a satisfaction with my career.  I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, but I'm just not getting where I want to be.  So, I think I need to make a change.  If this isn't working, lets try something different.  I want to be an actor.  If other people aren't hiring me, I need to do something to hire myself.  I need to start writing more.  I need to collaborate more.  I need to improvise, and move and push myself and create.  I need to strive more.

It's daunting, being responsible for your own happiness.  Knowing that you control your destiny.  But being frightened of that fact doesn't take away your accountability.  That I'm scared of the overwhelming task of creating the future I want to live in doesn't change the fact that I am the only one who can create that future.  If I want it, then it's up to me to do what I have to do to get it.

So, I guess I need to set some goals.  I need to put a notebook by the bed for ideas in the middle of the night.  I need to learn a new monologue once a month.  I need to stop eating my frustrations.

I need to quit whining and just start doing it.