So let me set the stage here.
The Lovely Mrs. Smith and I were married 29 years ago this December. Now, as a condition of the settlement of some "discussion" we had (probably involving an analysis of whether Mother's Day is actually a good time to play golf just because it's easy to get a tee time), I'm required to say the following.
"While getting married was the best decision I ever made (and I took Seattle and the points in the last Super Bowl, thank you very much), the actual timing of the event was a) not a great idea, and b) completely my fault."
Glad we got that out of the way.
You see, what makes a December wedding so problematic isn't the event itself, but the timing. By getting married in December, you've assure the church will be at its loveliest, the mood entirely festive and the event forever squeezed in between Black Friday sales and some other big event they have every year at the end of the month.
So, early on, before the kids, when you do have time to go anywhere on your anniversary, you won't have the money. And later, after the kids, if, by some miracle of the season you do have some money, you won't have the time.
Consider it the December Wedding Catch 22. Except the only one catching anything will be you.
I mention this because I am, in fact, the one who insisted we get married in December. This was, of course, back in the days before the other vested party in our nuptials had the good sense to realize I didn't.
And I also mention this because the Lovely Mrs. Smith and I have finally reached the point in our lives where we can leave the offspring without violating any really important child welfare statues. So, for our anniversary, we're going to take a trip.
Which brings with it a whole new series of "opportunities."
For one, there's the matter of packing. Or lack thereof. For the last few weeks, the Lovely Mrs. Smith has been reviewing her clothing options in light of weather, packing ability, versatility, the events we are either likely to be involved in or that are options and the entire color spectrum available. She's been laying all her choices out, mixing and matching, discarding and bringing back into consideration and has finally narrowed her choices down to only slightly more clothing than Lewis and Clarke took with them. And then she started on the shoes.
I changed the blade in my razor.
OK, so, before we act like I didn't give it any thought at all, I did have to consider whether the green stripe had really faded all that much and if there weren't a few more days' use available. Finally, I just said the heck with it and threw caution to the wind. I mean, live a little.
I'd like it on the record that one of the reasons the Lovely Mrs. Smith gave for putting so much time into her clothing options is that she didn't want people at the hotel thinking she always wore the same things every day. That may not have been the best time for me to point out that, impossible as that consideration might be in perception or practice, we'll be staying at a hotel. And since we'll be at a hotel, the point of which is temporary housing for those passing through, it's likely anyone we see on Day One won't even be there on Day Two.
Anyone we do see more than once will probably be couples consisting of wives too preoccupied with worrying that someone will think they've worn the same outfit more than once to notice anyone else, and men wondering who that attractive woman is and why the goofus with her is staring at the elevator buttons like he's trying to figure out nuclear launch codes.
I mean, if they number hotel floors, why don't the floors start with Floor No. 1? And why do we have to have "L," "T","G" and "P1", "P2" and "P3"? No wonder I'll probably spend most of my time riding up and down the elevator like it's an attraction at Epcot, with an empty ice bucket in my hand.
Having said all this, I'm sure the trip will be wonderful, thanks in no small part to the Lovely Mrs. Smith's ability to plan these things and to the delightful, if slightly over-packed, company I'll be keeping.
It might actually even get me off the hook for the whole "December Wedding" thing. Maybe.
GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.
Commentary on 12/18/2014