Papercuts on my tongue
I'm a book nerd, so one of the places where I splurged for the wedding was on the invitations. My love of good paper, ink, and fonts, my sister's adroit hand at drawing curves, plus the expertise of the letterpress gurus in berkeley, resulted in invitations that I absolutely adored. When I first got them I kept pulling them out and looking at them -- how gorgeous they were!
Saturday, I tricked my bridesmaids into toiling in my own private invitation addressing sweatshop. It was stressful to spell names correctly, keep the Dr., Ms., Miss, Mrs., Captain, and Mr.'s straight, and don't even get me started on the southerners' wacky naming conventions. Each mistake was one envelope closer to not having enough invitations. In hindsight, the peace of mind would have been worth the price of an extra 20 envelopes.
E and I just finished stamping and sealing the envelopes. And despite how much I'm proud of and really like the invitations, I'm also sick of 'em and I can wait to get them out of my house and into the loving arms of the postal service tomorrow morning.
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