These days, my folx. These. Days. Did anyone else look out the window the other day and wonder when we rebooted into a Fallout landscape? Running through that was weirder than weird.
I’m not quite sure what else to say about it. I am quite sure none of us could have predicted the giant angry cat 2020 has become. How many snow globes has it knocked over now? Who had one of the Upside Down?
But seriously, these are some crazy times. I feel like a little kid who was excited to be let out of school but now misses my lunch friends. I want to be able to go to the mall and derp around and buy movie popcorn and hug people dang it!
Even wedding planning doesn’t spark a ton of joy. We have to figure out what our Plan B is in case Lady Rona decides to crash our festivities.
So, uh, how about we all promise to vote in November. Mmmkay? Mmmkay.
But really, who decided to put so much pressure on the wedding industry? When did it stop being some big party that just celebrates the love of the two people actually exchanging vows/rings/etc? When did invitations to said party become a matter of loyalty and betrayal? I’m still processing that last point a bit, and don’t really want to get into specifics, but if you can avoid drama, dear readers, take my word for it:
Stand your ground.
Your wedding/party/celebration is yours and you make all of the final decisions. Period.
I’m sorry I haven’t been great about keeping up with posts. It feels like I let you all down while my brain decided it was time to go on autopilot. I’m trying to get better. Between anxiety, depression, wedding planning, and other drama, this quarantine has certainly…sucked.
But hey, at least we’re all still here.
I sincerely hope that none of you have been terribly impacted by these fires in California. My fiance and I are close to some of the sites, but have not been evacuated. My heart goes out to everyone.
I promise to write more soon. Stay safe, stay healthy, wear a mask, and wash your hands.
R E Powell 
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