Craft Me Tuesday

After a great night’s sleep, I returned to Walgreens the next day. I didn’t even ask if my photos might have stayed in the queue. I resubmitted.

“When will my photos be done?” I asked.

“About an hour,” the help replied.

Fortunately, Michael’s was in the same shopping center as Walgreens. Fortunate may be a strong word here, but I did save some gas money in transitioning from store to store. I needed frames for my soon-to-be-ready photos. They needed to be pretty but not gaudy, silver but not shiny, and fit exactly with the entire wedding theme of understated elegance. At Michael’s, I could even dress my teddy bear to go clubbing, so why not find the frame of all frames. And find it I did, a lovely number meeting all the criteria, as best I could tell. I understood, at this point, that if it didn’t meet the instinctual “doesn’t feel right” criteria when under inspection, nothing else really mattered. But it at least qualified for inspection. I grabbed one to take home.

Frame selection might sound easy, but I haven’t told you that we had been visiting frame shelves, sections, and departments for the past month—and had not yet found the frame of eternal love. We had surveyed and passed on hundreds of frames. Some, with the flashing chili peppers, were easy to dismiss, but I felt several respectable candidates had been denied, based on “I’m just not feeling it.”

“This one is nice,” I said.

“I don’t know,” Christa replied.

I listed all the criteria the frame met.

“The people don’t look happy,” she responded.

“What people?” I said, glancing around.

“In the frame. It’s tainted.”

Apparently, a frame with even a hint of discontentment on the inside could never truly contain and display the eternal joy our winner was destined for.

Frame and pictures were purchased, and I headed home. Tasks to accomplish that evening were:

1. Hopeful confirmation ceremony for picture frame
2. Final approval on table-name card color, design, and display

I started with the easiest, the table names. I only needed to determine the final proportions of the support structure. I cut one support piece the long way, accounting for the quarter-inch border on either side, folded it in half, and said, “This is as big as they can be.”

“It’s perfect,” Christa enthusiastically replied.

Let there be joy around the world, for a period no shorter than forty days!

“But there is too much space around the text,” she added.

And may we now suspend that celebration. Adjustments were made, and an accord was struck. Final production was added to the next day’s to-do list. Now for the frame.

“I also found a frame that I think will do the trick.” (Big reveal from plastic bag.) “What do you think?” I asked.

“That is cute. Nice job, honey. We need eight, plus the two parents’ pictures. How many do they have?”

“At least one,” I dejectedly replied.

I mean, how short-sighted of me, to find the one-in-two thousand frame, bring it home, and not consider quantity. I won a battle and decided that was enough for one day.

“You didn’t at least look?” she inquired.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

Nothing deflates you like knowing you’re going right back into the craftie zone the next day, especially when it could have been avoided. I slept in a ball on the floor that night.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival