I read Jonathan Dee's The Privileges about a month before the wedding. Oh hell. I wish someone had told me about that first chapter and the monstrous spectacle of what can only be described as a "privileged" wedding. What attitude. What waste. I went to sleep that night worried about wedding nightmares. Fortunately for me, I slept just fine and our wedding was not like that at all. (Well, aside from the drunk underage brother but I *think* that happens at most weddings, privileged or rural or whatever).
So what do I think after reading the moving scene from Julia Powell's food memoir Julie and Julia just a week before our move from an apartment into a rental house? More panic, more stress and more "God, I HOPE that is not us." And then I begin to tick off the ongoing "To Do" list in my head that includes what things we can do without for a week (books, good dishes, winter clothes) what we need to have in the house for the movers (ie Mom, Dad and the boys) and what we can save for after (the giveaway stuff, putting up curtain rods and the cleaning. Oh no, the cleaning) And as I do that, I try to take one lesson from Julia Powell's disaster: I will make sure we have orange juice. And brandy. And whatever it is that one needs to make gimlets.
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