This week I came to Seattle to work on some wedding planning details with my parents, and it's been great. On Friday I went on a marathon wedding dress shopping spree with my two moms, my godmother, my sister-in-law, and my aunt. They were tireless. They gleefully pulled dress after dress from the racks, and I dutifully tried on each and every one. Sometimes three times, just to be sure. We went to four bridal shops (three of them actually open), and I'm sure I tried on forty dresses. I was a princess, a Hollywood diva, a Spanish flamenco dancer, a Greek goddess... My head was spinning, and at a certain point even shutting the dressing room door seemed futile.

I tried on so many beautiful gowns, and I was torn because I knew I would have been very happy marrying in several of them. I felt paralyzed by indecision. Choosing Adam for a husband was a no-brainer, but picking the wedding dress was going to give me an ulcer.

Around 6:30pm we broke for martinis, a welcome relief. It was great to have spent the day with my ladies, but I wanted to sleep on the dress decision.

Sleeping on it lasted till about 5:30am, when I gave up on the bed and opted for lifting weights and speed-walking on the treadmill. I had one dress that I just kept coming back to in my imagination, but I needed to be sure. My very indulgent father and stepmother went back to the bridal shop with me on Saturday morning when the store opened, and we bought the dress that woke *me* up at dawn.

So I feel really good. I got to show the dress off some for my family at my dad's birthday party, and I got to spend some time with it over the weekend. We bonded. Now it is safely hidden away in my parents' closet, and so I offer you a glimpse of my father's interpretation of me as a bride in the image above. We wanted Adam to have a picture of me in "my dress"...

Did I mention my dad is a part-time cartoonist?

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