The wedding is two weeks away!
I feel alternately excited and annoyed—as my friend M said, the devil’s in the details.
Did you know how stupidly ridiculous putting tables together can get when you have to account for guests who don’t like each other?
I know, ooh, poor me, putting tables together!
Boo hoo!
But hey, my life consists of organizing tables and figuring out the order of how I want pictures taken (along with grading the tests I gave right before break—what was I thinking?), and changing my name.
More on that in a minute.
So, tables. Who knew this little detail would prove so obnoxious? I have attended various weddings and find that people prefer guidance. Nobody wants to act the wayward sheep, wandering around trying to pair up before the table’s full and realizing they have to sit with people they don’t know while their luckier friends gab it up together. Nor will I go so far as to force people to sit in a certain place; I felt a happy medium worked best. I know, isn’t this ridiculous? Fortunately we got it worked out, so, you know, whew. Crisis averted.
Along that line, I have to take the feminist route here and say I feel confident that men cannot possibly have to deal with the same foolishness with changing a name. When DF and I got our marriage license, the woman told me if I wanted to switch my maiden name to my first name, I would have to pay some exorbitant fee, go in front of a judge, have a birth certificate and a pint of my blood…. OK, that last part has no truth to it at all. None. However, it seems I have to jump through a bizarre number of hoops to change my name legally. At least it’s not like twenty years ago, when a woman had to get her husband’s permission to keep her maiden name (for professional reasons, etc.). Even funnier, I’ve also heard of a wife having to give permission for her husband to have a vasectomy (also about twenty years ago). Ouch….
1 comment:
I didn't have to go through such an obnoxious rigmarole to change my name , and I did the "maiden name becomes middle name" thing", too. In fact, the process was so uneventful, I don't even remember it.
As for the crazy antiquated ways of the county clerk and marriage. In Memphis, there wasn't even a place for me to sign the giant book when we got our marriage license. They literally drew a line next to where M signed with a pencil and told me I could sign there. How southern is that? (I mean that in the sense that, until a few years ago, it was legal in South Carolina to beat your wife on the courthouse steps on Saturdays with just cause.)
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