Not a proverbial one.

Randy and I are getting married on Saturday, March 21st. Today is Sunday, February 15th. Last Tuesday I drove my mom to the Arizona Biltmore to show her where, exactly, her daughter was getting married. That’s not exactly true, I didn’t actually drive—she had to drive because I couldn’t remember how to get there. Once there the wedding coordinator, a very cordial, very competent woman named either Sheila or Mary, I can’t remember which, handed me a wedding planning timeline.

“It will help you keep track of what you need to do when.” According to this timeline I’m roughly sixteen months behind. There are only a handful of things a bride should have to check off inside the five week mark, and two of those include “Remind Your Groom to be on His Best Bachelor Party Behavior!” and “Try to Get a Good Night’s Sleep!” So no hookers and a fistful of sweaty Benadryl. No different than any run-of-the-mill Tuesday. Check and check.

Despite my obvious inability to adhere to a two-year timeline, the entire affair is shaping up to be exactly what I hoped it would be: A small, elegant outdoor ceremony with our immediate family. Less than twenty people total. Ceremony, pictures, cocktails, dinner, spend the night, Advil, brunch, pool. I finally met with a florist last week—it took me a while to decide which one would be the most likely to just make all of my decisions for me, but based on the overwhelmingly high percentage of her brilliant ideas to the very few vague thoughts I mumbled into my shirtsleeve, I think I chose well. Essentially I shook my head no at some stuff and then nodded my head yes to some other stuff; it’s through this “colder / warmer” method of wedding planning that I really seem to shine.

The best part is that there isn’t any pressure. I’m not trying to micromanage a huge social event, I’m planning one gorgeous, special day to celebrate with the people we love the most. And the fact that Randy and I are going to be husband and wife when it’s over makes literally everything else icing on the proverbial cake.

Note to self: Get a cake.