The Universe in an Envelope or Two

Invitation-selling stores are more common then I realized, and they all have the same basic items—and people for that matter.

“Hi. We’re looking for wedding invitations,” we said upon entering.

“Great. What are you looking for?” the associate replied.

“Something somewhat unique, but formal enough for The MOB to show off at church.”

“Have a seat. We have lots of wonderful choices. Look through and mark the ones you like.”

Wham! What appeared to be the unabridged history of the universe landed in front of us.

“This is one of many. Take your time,” she added.

I looked around and saw that there were numerous universes to explore.

“Mark what you like and we can price them out at the end,” she concluded and walked off.

I was in the dark regarding the price of invitations, and Christa, to some extent, was also. We didn’t think the numbers would grow so fast. Dining à la carte is a blessing and a curse. You pay for exactly what you get, but to be full, gloriously full, the check ends up bigger then you think.

“We have found four we like,” we said.

“Let’s see. Oh, that is nice. The invitation paper is two dollars. Printing is fifty cents per invite, and the printing set-up fee is twenty-five dollars total,” our helper replied.

“So, two hundred and seventy-five dollars for one hundred,” I stated.

“Did you intend on having a reception?” she asked with only a hint of contempt.

“Yes.”

“Well, how will they know? You need a reception card.” Our assumed IQ kept dropping.

“OK.”

“Those are seventy-five cents each, with a twenty-five-cent printing fee per card,” she stated.

“So three hundred and seventy-five dollars for one hundred.”

 “Do you want to know who is coming?” she asked.

“Those we invite, hopefully,” I replied.

“Yes. So an RSVP card will be needed. The matching one is also seventy-five cents with a twenty-five-cent printing fee. Oh, let us not forget the envelope—fifty cents each, plus postage.”

“All right, five hundred and twenty-five dollars, plus postage. What was our budget again?” I asked, looking at Christa.

Nickels were pouring, like the sands of an hourglass, directly into my clown pants, sinking me ever further into budgetary no man’s land. Gasping for air, I began to understand the tomes, as the weight of the universe was being unloaded on us, one nickel at a time. (Our wedding had three sponsors: my parents, Christa’s parents, and us, so I wanted to ensure that each sponsor got nickel-and-dimed equally. I wanted a corporate sponsor, but none stepped forward. I personally feel that I could have been more persuasive, but Mr. Puddy insisted on doing the talking. His demand for equal feline representation was often the deal breaker.)

“And will your guests simply infer the way to get to your wedding and reception?” our helper continued, at this point addressing the village idiots.

“I suppose we could tell them,” I offered.

 “On some exquisite linen paper, I hope.” She continued to refine us. I nodded.

“Indeed, forty cents per sheet and twenty cents for printing. Now to wrap it nicely, we have the French-fold envelope, fifty cents each,” she added.

“And postage!” I exclaimed.

I had anticipated her move and had struck first. She wanted to charge us, but I said it first. Who’s the big winner?

“Oh, sir. That is simply the envelope for the invitation.”

“Exactly,” I stated, confident in my comprehension of envelopes.

“For the outside envelope, we recommend a more simple ivory, with ivory tissue. Fifty cents per envelope and tissue, postage should be seventy cents. I can also recommend an excellent calligrapher for two dollars per envelope,” she finally concluded.

I was swimming in the madness, but with clown pants full of nickels, the prospects weren’t good for staying afloat. Our middle-of-the-road invitation had blown past our price expectations to the point where even I had lost the ability to keep a running total.

An envelope for an envelope. How can you state it so matter-of-fact, when it is so insane?

“Well, we are going to have to think about it,” we said, and made a beeline for the door.

We both knew that the wedding invitation budget wasn’t anywhere near four figures. We called The MOB to go over what we had learned. She had spoken to some friends at church and learned that invitations were a bit more expensive than our budget seemed to indicate, and she reemphasized that we had better beat Uncle J, or she wouldn’t hear the end of it. It took us a little while to let the new budgetary picture sink in.

This led us into the single greatest misadventure of the preparation.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival