Today's Paper Obits Newsletters Our Town Crime High School Football Preview Thursday's thumbs Razorback Sports Today's Photos Puzzles

If I've learned anything over the years, it's that no matter how hard people try, no one is beating time and Mother Nature. And if I ever start to doubt that, the events of the last week reinforced my earlier belief.

Back story here: My oldest son got married last weekend to a wonderful girl from a great family. It was a joyous event we had been rooting for throughout the past 12 years, give or take. We, frankly, couldn't have been happier about it.

We also, frankly, couldn't have spent more time preparing for it if we'd had to build the road to the event site by hand.

OK, let me rephrase that. The Lovely Mrs. Smith, who understands the long-term ramifications of these events far more than I, was the prime instigator of the "time preparing" part. Me, I pretty much operated in a slight daze while wandering from dress shop to dress department to dress boutique to dressage (OK, maybe not that one), all while offering totally unqualified advice and reading my phone.

Often at the same time so ... multi-tasking!

I mean, there were a few details I had to handle. I had to be fitted for a tux, which consisted of standing there while a salesperson measured me. Took about five minutes, and I could check the Cardinals score while I did it.

Meanwhile, the Lovely Mrs. Smith made arrangements for a veritable army (OK, probably one of those European armies that allow trendy glasses and haircuts) of people to handle things like hair and makeup and nails and whatnot that goes into prepping the mother and sisters of the groom.

I watched all this, somewhat bemused, and went back to reading my phone or staring at cloud formations (or staring at cloud formations on my phone; apparently there's an app for that).

Now all this seems like a lot of work. And it's not like anyone in this scenario to suffer in silence. So I should have seen it coming when the Lovely Mrs. Smith asked me when I was going to start getting ready for the big day. And I also shouldn't have been surprised when "Well, I figured the morning of, I'd put a fresh blade in my razor" was not the correct answer.

Seems, I was informed, that while I might consider myself the same fresh-faced lad I was the last time I was tuxedo-level involved in a wedding, the double-team of Time and Mother Nature (remember those two?) made that not quite the case.

Soon, as in "that instant," I was dragged into the swirling vortex that is wedding day prep.

I was informed I needed to get a haircut, but that I had to get it far enough before the event it wouldn't look like I had gotten a haircut. My suggestion to skip a haircut so it not only looked like I didn't just get a haircut but actually saved me a few bucks didn't appeal to logic the way I thought it might.

I was also informed that I needed to do something about my complexion, since I had to be more tanned prior to the event. I suggested 36 holes of golf. I was told six minutes in a tanning booth, with an option for more. Yeah, that was my second choice.

If you've never been in a tanning booth, imagine standing in an over-lit rotisserie oven in your underwear while wearing tiny, goofy-looking goggles. Or, you can just go to a tanning salon and you really won't have to imagine anything.

I was also informed that my smile wasn't exactly dazzling, a fact which could be rectified by administering a couple of clear bleaching strips once a day for, roughly, the rest of my life.

Just a couple of catches there, of course. For one, administering the strips was about like trying to get tape off your fingers while holding a Christmas bow in place. Which is why a box of 20 pairs represents about a three-day supply.

I also learned these strips work best if you don't drink coffee. And since I don't work at all unless I do, probably a waste of time there.

Somehow, I managed to stumble through the event with only minimal, knee-jerk involvement in efforts to clean me up. I did, however, make good on changing the blade, so nice clean shave.

And, in this group in particular, no one was there to see me, anyway. Even though my hair did look like I just hadn't cut it.

Which is probably the best idea of all.

Commentary on 06/23/2017

Print Headline: Prepping for The Big Day

Sponsor Content