Jake and I are getting married.
Not too long ago, we spontaneously picked a date and made it official.
In less than a week, we’re going to have a small ceremony with just our immediate family, with a reception later the spring. What was supposed to be bare bones has become more complicated and large source of stress. I can’t remember the last time I spent a whole weekend at our home in Fargo. My weekends are spent driving to and from the Twin Cities after busy weeks of school, work, and writing.
Despite my most earnest intentions, I am wearing something white, shiny, and uncomfortable. I made the seamstress loosen my dress, twice, before I deemed it tolerable. She commented, “But it’s your wedding. You won’t feel like eating much anyway, right?” I wanted to punch her.
This weekend, I cracked into tears as we exited the car after our three and a half hour drive following a hectic workweek. I felt dangerously close to a Jungian mental break. Should this occur within the next six days, I hope I’ll at least have a Red Book to show.
Saturday afternoon, Jake and I grabbed some alone time. The rare kind where we weren’t driving somewhere or watching 30 Rock on our couch. Some may call this a date. We completed errands at the Mall of America and had lunch at Tucci Benucch before our respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. Before we moved to Fargo, we lived near to the Mall of America and occasionally went on mall dates. We ate at Tucci Benucch a couple of times before they hired Asher Miller as their new Executive Chef (I’m not sure if he is still in this position).
Our server brought us warm bread and garlic-flecked olive oil.
We ordered a starter of calamari, $9 to share. For an entree, I ordered a half serving of Scottish salmon with lemon risotto and arugula salad, $13, while Jake ordered a half serving of spaghetti carbonara, $9.
Jake raved about the meal and limoncello he shared at The Strip Club.
The curried seafood sandwich was truly one of the best things I’ve eaten for a while. It induced a moment where I just paused and reflect on how good it tasted. The bun was toasted and buttered. The calamari was tender, the shrimp were firm, and both tasted fresh. The creamy curry sauce was surprisingly spicy enough to induce a a sweat. I couldn’t tell you what type of curry I tasted, my only clue being that the sauce was rosy-hued. I used the bun to scrape every bit of sauce from the flimsy cardboard boat and am plotting a way. . . any way. . .to return for another sandwich, soon.
The rest of the evening matched my introverted style. Chill and conversation-centric. In search of evening dessert, we bypassed Meritage’s hour long wait for Kincaid’s where a table of women applauded my bachelorette party hat. I can’t describe the hat further than mentioning that the girls made me remove it when we inquired about tables at Meritage. The evening ended over leftover smears of a fried waffle sundae and bread pudding with pear soaked in bourbon sauce.
Despite the stress, I remind myself as often as I can that our family and friends are doing everything they can to make this experience special. It’s also hard to think my mom won’t be here, as she passed away in 2008. For now, I’ll take one day at a time and enjoy the well wishes from friends and family.