32 days...

Um. This is bad. I just read the side of a van. It said, "North Country Janitorial." But I saw, "Cupcake."




Lord, help me make it through these last few weeks of wedding planning without the assistance of your most wonderful creation: the Snickers bar, and without killing the groom or anyone else who happens to catch me at my "best."

Give me kind words when I talk to the wedding coordinator who still has not returned my panicked message from over a week ago.

And, could you please replace that panic with soft, fluffy, marshmallow clouds? I wouldn't want to accidentally, in a state of complete mindlessness, seat my gentle, old granddaddy with Corey's loud and rambunctious track friends.

Also, about that cupcake...