Something Old, Something New, I want the Fairy Tale and an Asian Elvis, too!

When I was about four years old I decided that I was going to grow up and marry my Dad. Which at the time made complete sense to me. He was handsome and smart and strong. He was a good tucker-iner. He already lived at my house and whenever I was sick he brought me a new coloring book and crayons. Seriously, what else could a girl ask for from a husband? So, I used to practice being a bride by putting a towel on my head like a veil and walking up and down the hallway (incidentally that is also how I used to pretend to be a nun). I did this until my mother informed me that I could NOT marry my dad because a.) he was already married to her and b.) because, outside of the state of Arkansas, marrying your father is just icky. (I was secretly mad at my mother for this for the next 4 years. I was convinced that she was plotting to keep me from getting any good wedding presents. I was hoping for a Snoopy Sno-Cone Maker.)

In the 7th & 8th grade, my friend Roslyn and I began to plan our weddings. We had folders and notebooks and planned out every detail. Roslyn's wedding was pretty enough, but mine was SUPER-FANTASTICALLY CLASSY! I would wear an off-white Victorian high-neck dress with tons of lace and have my hair knotted in a loose chignon bun with lots of loose tendrils Sidenote: At this point in my life, I was completely obsessed with Jane Seymour and the movie Somewhere in Time; Therefore most of my imaginary "future" was set in the past, around the 1900s. (Don't Judge! It made sense at the time!) The ceremony would be held in a gazebo filled with white roses. And a famous band would play as I walked toward my groom, who at the time was optional but for the Wedding Folder's sake, I used pictures of either Michael Jackson or Matt Dillon (Who would've guessed that I probably had a better shot at Matt Dillon?)

When I finally did get married (the first time) it was not the extravagant affair I had dreamed of - my (ex)husband told me he wouldn't marry me if I wanted a big wedding (perhaps if I were sane that would have been a GREAT BIG RED FLAG!). Alas, we went to the courthouse and then to my son's baseball game. We did have a "reception" that weekend, though (and by reception I mean Kentucky Fried Chicken with potluck sides in my mother's yard). The dee-jay (the teenager from across the street) hooked an extra speaker up to the stereo and put it in the window so that everyone could hear the music. The night ended with my brand new husband and I fighting because he wanted to leave our reception to go and "celebrate" our marriage with his cousin and some of the guys (who while we we arguing was pissing in my mother's front yard). Jeez! I can't imagine why we didn't last.

However, when I married Mr. Fisher, things were different. I truly expected that we would fly to Vegas, get married by an Asian Elvis (a newly acquired fantasy of mine), and try to catch Tom Jones in concert! BING! BANG! BOOM! But Mr. Fisher wanted a wedding and more than that, wanted me to have a wedding. (Because I had kids and because I had been married, I didn't think I deserved a dream wedding but Mr. Fisher saw things differently and made sure that almost every wish I had for that day came true.) In the end, I got a fairy-tale beautiful dress, a Prince Charming of a husband, and wonderful reception free from Colonel Sanders and his 11 secret herbs and spices. Our day was perfect! There were only three wishes left unfulfilled...

1. My father was not alive to walk me down the isle.


2. I could not convince Father Shaun to dress up like an Asian Elvis before performing our ceremony.


3. And Air Supply did not perform Here I Am as I walked down the isle (Don't Judge! I started planning my wedding in 1980!).