Cry if I want to

Planning a wedding has turned out to be an extraordinary undertaking.  To be honest, I'm not sure I'd do it again, if I had understood the number of details - and dollars - it is necessary to juggle in one's mind.  (Let me qualify that.  I would and will marry Adam with no doubts.  It's the kind of wedding I chose that I might re-think.)  Here are a few examples of the things I've had to think about this weekend.  The caterer provides glasses for non-alcoholic beverages like water and lemonade, but not wine or beer glasses.  They will however provide linen for the bar table, so all I need to rent at the rental place are pint and wine glasses but no linens.  Also, will we want the preacher miked?  A lapel mike or a standing mike?  A lapel mike will be less unwieldy, but a standing mike will be great for later if people want to make drunken or tearful speeches.  There were invitations envelopes to purchase (fifty unforeseen bucks right there) and RSVP cards (another six).  And the great question of my Saturday morning, how many tables will there be???  I called the owner of the wedding site and the caterer who were not home and sort of evasive (respectively) before I realized that as the bride I decide the number of tables.  Or the wedding planner decides, though we had thought on a sunny mellow day last summer, "Who the hell needs a wedding planner?  How hard can it be?"  Indeed.

And then there's the honeymoon, a backpacking trip from Santa Fe to Taos, which thankfully Adam has taken charge of.  I like the contrast:  We'll be going from a day of apricot-glazed salmon, chardonnay, flowers and a dignified view of the river to seven days of gorp, freeze-dried meals, 12 miles a day, and no showers.  Though I admit I look forward a little bit to being princess for a day, I'll be abolishing any self-perception of royalty pretty darn quick after the wedding by inserting myself into the Pecos Wilderness with only a pack on my back and a map-reading man at my side.  Ah well.  Inflated egos are unbecoming.

So.  With all that in mind, why don't you think about whipping up a chowder for one of your meals this coming week.  It'll be nice comfort food to assuage whatever anxiety is sticking voltage between your shoulder blades.  In my case the wedding worth a small house.  Well, maybe a small shack.  But still, shacks are not cheap ya know.

The chowder I comforted myself with tonight was of the shrimp, potatoes, and corn variety.  It was good - very good - but as you can probably detect by all the butter and cream globules floating on the top, it was not low fat.  If you are not fitting into a wedding dress any time soon, please email me for the recipe.  If you are interested in keeping your calories low, I'd highly recommend another wonderful chowder recipe, Corn and Quinoa Chowder.  I'm sure I'll post on that one at some point, as it's one of my all-time favorites.  But anyway, Here's to the Happy Couple.  Couple of chowders, that is.