"Here comes the bride...all dressed in..."

Some people would say I worry about things in a weird way, others would say I worry about weird things. I still don't know which fits more, just that I worry a lot...like, a whole lot.

The big day is a week away and still so much to do! Here's a (small) sample:

• Sidestreet Florists' been giving me the run-around. I think they messed up the order of flowers and are bustling to get it fixed before we talk again. As long as they get it done, but I'll call again in the morning. 
• The DJ for the reception's been arrested. ARRESTED! John had said, Tom, as your best man, it's my job to throw you the best fucking bachelor's party and get you the best fucking DJ. I guess all the good DJ's ride around at 1 in the morning, stoned out of their minds, trying to pick up female cops as hookers? 
• It's an outside wedding and the forecast just came out today. Wanna guess what it says for Sunday, November 29? Yep. Rain, my friend. Lots and lots of rain. So I have to get another venue. I was trying to avoid the inside. Because inside means a church (atleast, for my family it does). And a church means complications, considering Pam's muslim and I--my family--is Christian.
• Half of our invitations came back. Apparently they just upped the postage price. So I have to get some 1 cent stamps...50 of 'em. But I might just chuck 'em and then email. Kim'll never know.
  

And I still need to get rings.

But none of these things really worry me. You want to know what does worry me? What Kim's going to wear. I know, I know...silly right? But my family is very traditional...very traditional. As in my mother never worked a day in her life and the only man she ever dated was my father--planned, coordinated, and ordained by the church. That kind of traditional.

But of course me and Kim--she'll kill me if she ever knows I posted this--of course we've had...well, you know. We don't think of it as a big deal. And as for her parents, they seem cool with it. Dad even jokes about it sometimes, which gets a little awkward. But my parents...they just wouldn't accept it. But the worst part is they haven't asked about it, hinted at it, nothing. And I was just sure mom would in one of her round-about, I'm-not-really-asking-this ways. Makes me think they expect something and are too shamed of the inevitable answer to ever ask the question.

White is for virgins. Simple, safe choice, right? But what if my parents know, in some bizarre way just know. The only thing worst for them than pre-marital sex would be lying during such a holy ceremony.

But if she doesn't wear white? Then we might as well paste a sign on her back that says "No flowers here!" (Honey, if you're reading this, Rob told me I could make this blog thing private, so blame him.)

We've been through four dresses. Two white, one blue, one red, all beautiful. All sent back because of me...and my worry. Kim's been patient, as always, but she said she's going once and for all tomorrow and making a decision.

White...or no? White is the least risky. They could really just be that naive and everything go without a hitch. I hope she picks white. Everything else, it'll fall into place, but I've got this tingly feeling, and it tells me this color thing'll be the shit hitting the fan.

It's so clear outside. I can see each and every star. It hasn't rained for a month. I guess its overdue and needed but...on our wedding? But, like I said, not really worried about it. All I can think about are white, blues, and reds...like a flag.

So these are the things I worry about. Welcome to my world. Only 7 more days.

-Tom Friedman