SAVE THE DATE

“We need to save the date,” Christa said.

“I thought we already did,” I said.

“You know. I mean tell our guests,” she replied.

“Shh-yeah! Of course I knew that. You always inform people about the time and place of a special event before you formally invite them to it.”

Just for fun we decided to make Save the Date announcements in the form of a ransom note. A ransom note contains exactly what is needed for informing someone to save the date.

1.      Location – so travel can be arranged

2.      Time – so you know when to arrange travel

3.      Implied exchange of object(s) of value

The ransom note format was not chosen simply to displease or rattle immediate family members, as some other activities were (muffled giggling).

The first thing we needed was a hostage. We decided that having one of us hold the other hostage didn’t make sense or create the right impression. Also, we intended to enter wedlock childless in every sense, so no shotgun theme. Rest easy, readers; we did not give away children to accomplish this. That left just one possibility, abduction by feline.

Fortunately, we owned an extremist feline. Our cat is a bastard, born into a fatherless home. He was tired of the bastard moniker and finally had a reason to lash out because of it. Christa adopted him, in a perfectly legal, paperless, basement transaction, in my presence, but to him, I was just the guy sleeping with his mom. He was named Niles Humpty Norris, after Niles Crane from Frasier. Humpty was added because I was a participant in the process—and because I believe every animal was meant to dance, although not all in the “humpty” style that Digital Underground promotes. His required daily recitals also fueled his rage. We both love him, and he loves us when it is convenient for him.

I have trouble sticking with one name for animals. I prefer to call them whatever comes to mind at the time. I hope this isn’t a problem for our future children, although I enjoy when it angers the cat. One name that stuck more than others was Mister Puddy or Mister Pu. The former rhymes with goody, if you are pronouncing it correctly. We thought it should be spelled similar to David Putty, one of Elaine’s boyfriends from Seinfeld, as Mr. Puddy seemed destined to also work at an auto dealership, eat at Arby’s, and give high fives. He would not score well on standardized tests, but that may be part personal choice.

He describes himself thusly:

I am a Gemini, with luxurious white fur and delicate black highlights. I enjoy evening walks through the garden and seafood from the can. I am a lover,—just ask my favorite accent pillow—but can be ornery when agitated. I come from a fatherless home and legally still live in one, but that will soon change. My adoptive parents seem to think I am incapable of effectively bathing myself. I am a cat; that’s disgraceful.

Now that he was older, around our age, relatively speaking, he’d decided that enough was enough and took matters into his own paws. In a hurricane of fur, he subdued and bound us, then laid out his demands.  

The contents of the Save the Date package were as follows:

Exhibit A: The Note

Save the Date

September 18, 2004

Or you’ll never see Drew and Christa wed again.

Meet at the corner of 4^th and Washington in Bloomington Indiana at 4:30 p.m. for the “exchange.”

Mr. Puddy

Exhibit B: The Poem

You in your veil and I in my cap
had just settled in for a late March nap
When I was arose by an unnerving clatter
Mr. Pu looked up to say: "What is the matter?"
Quickly he bound us and said: "Be quiet.
You two are getting married, no longer shall I hide it."
He sat us on the floor and giggled with glee
Momentarily stopping to scratch for a flea.
He doffed a sombrero and pretty red scarf
and said: "This is for bathing me and making me barf."
He set up the camera and set the self-timer
and thought: "I didn't know Dad was such a rhymer."
”Try to look surprised,” he said with a grin.
He held his head high to remove his double chin.
The picture was snapped not a moment too late.
Pu wants to make sure that everyone saves the date.

Exhibit C: The Photo of the Captives

The Save the Date packages were mailed. One blood relation, Uncle J, didn’t know what a Save the Date was and thought this was a poor excuse for a wedding invitation, then accused us of being into bondage. Since we mailed these while still in San Diego, The MOB heard the reactions as they moved west to east, and Uncle J lives out west. Instead of laughing off Uncle J’s reaction as ludicrous, she began to fear the worst from the church friends she had invited. The MOB called to tell Christa that bondage was frowned upon at her church.

Fortunately, a member of The MOB’s church received the Save the Date, comprehended, fell out of her chair laughing, and then reassured The MOB, hopefully with minimal discussion of bondage.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

PARENTS GETTING THEIR PEEPS IN

The whole point of having this shindig is to ask those who love and support you (and your parents’ friends) to come and bear witness to your declaration of unbounded love. If you are able to persevere through the invitation acquisition process (foreshadowing unsavory times), all you have to do is decide who to send those invitations to. However, there are numerous factors to consider during this process, related to other aspects of the glorious event planning.

The first major step is to make a rough estimate of how many people you want in attendance. The number needs to account for the variable cost of each guest, in order to keep within budget.

“Variable cost, why?” Christa asked.

“Having limited funds means we can’t throw the event of the decade, but we have a chance at the best merriment-to-expense ratio this year, and that is why each feature and guest added to the festivities must be considered, relative to merriment and cost,” I replied.

“So if cousin Stinky isn’t bringing $42.50 of good times, we aren’t inviting him?”

“There is a discount for blood relations.”

The number of guests must also take into consideration the physical confines of the church and reception site. You must remember that an open bar, lit candles, and some guests’ unwillingness to forgo polyester does increase the chance of fire, and the legal ramifications could force you to return some of your gifts to pay for court proceedings. I unsuccessfully tried to pay for my last doctor’s visit with crystal candlesticks. I suspect you wouldn’t get much further with a lawyer.

It is often helpful to try and assess where your parents stand with their guest list. I sent my mom (The MG) my best guess for who they might invite, selectively chosen. She replied with a list of their friends and my extended family members, divided into three tiers. Tier one indicated people we “must invite,” tier two meant “want to invite,” and tier three was “should invite but expendable.” Impressive! I do believe you are my mother and that microeconomics can be inherited.

Wait. The MG had already completed a three-tier guest-ranking system. What was she spending her free time doing now? She was not only reacting she was anticipating! She probably had suggestions documented on note cards for checklist items still two months in the future. She did mention that she had been to the library to get wedding guide books, and if I know the public library system, those will probably span at least the past half century. So not only are those note cards color-coded and alphabetically stored, they probably have bibliographical footnotes.

If you see parallels to your own mother, your best bet is to find her a very time-consuming hobby right before you announce your engagement, something like foster parenting for three-month-old Indonesian quadruplets.

It was a completely different situation for Christa, since she didn’t know very many of her parent’s friends, neighbors, or The MOB’s fellow church workers. Christa called to ask The MOB if she could provide us with an approximate number and the names of people she would like to invite. The MOB said she could try and put together a formal list. She then began to tell Christa about people she had already invited, including someone she had run into that morning at Bob Evans. This list included several people from her church, who all expressed interest in coming, but who, she was certain, wouldn’t come, and we didn’t need to formally invite. I knew from the look on Christa’s face, as she listened, that the news was going to be interesting.

Christa got off the phone and said “I don’t know what to say. She’s invited people but told me not to formally invite them.”

“I don’t know if Excel has a function for that,” I replied.

It is interesting to note that, at no point during any vows I’ve heard or read, does it explicitly state an obligation to humor your intended’s immediate family members in times of insanity. It is probably why they just traded head of cattle for daughters in the old days. It was a simple, elegant exchange, free of in-laws.

I was able to use The MG’s numbers to figure how many of our friends we needed to invite to keep her comfortably at tier two. In fairness, we needed to give that same number of invitations to The MOB. However, her potential invitees had to consider the three hours of travel needed to attend. This distance led to a higher percentage of declines, as the wedding grew closer. For every “can not attend” notice we received back, there was another potential couple to send one to. The MOB had her seats, and she intended to use them. She would send Christa e-mails regarding who to invite and the likelihood of their attending, including a medical history (“it’s only mild hemorrhoids”) and resume of other road trips completed (“went to visit his daughter in Toledo just last week”). His ass cushion better match our color scheme.

There was no problem with trying to fill the seats. At some point, though, when the guests received their invites two weeks before the event and had already missed the RSVP date by three weeks, they would have to infer the fill-in guest label that was assigned to them, and that’s not tasteful either.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

PROFILING THE MOTHERS

The mothers are the ones with input to give. Christa was hit with about fifteen to twenty e‑mails a day for the first couple of months. Sometimes, for effect, the same idea was sent repeatedly, just in case the previous message hadn’t been opened yet. It seemed they needed refreshing every ten minutes, like diner coffee. I was saved from most of the influx, but did I hear about it.

The Mother of the Bride: Betty Ann Norris

Code Name: The MOB (M-O-B)

Catch Phrase: I’m the mother of the bride. I can do what I want.

Tactics: Sending multiple excessive single-paragraph e-mails containing the same message written numerous ways, needing immediate decisions on minor details, and writing to see if you read the previous e-mails containing the needed decisions. Here are some of her personal bests:

1. One e-mail, containing one paragraph, 19 sentences, and 8 subjects
2. A single e-mail in which an idea was submitted, then argued against, then reasserted, followed by a phone call three minutes later
3. Three e-mails in five minutes which documented a three-part conversation she had with herself

The Mother of the Groom: Patricia Everett Lloyd

Assigned Code Name: PL

Our Chosen Code Name: The MG (Master Gardener)—or PL, MG (i.e., The Doctor of Flora)

Catch Phrase: I have a suggestion…

Tactics: Offering every possible alternative solution to a given issue, even issues that have been decided, and slipping her Master Gardener designation and knowledge of flora into any discussion. For example:

“Have you decided on invitations yet?” the MG asked.

“No, but we…”

“Well, I was thinking we could grow some switchgrass and weave them. What is interesting about switchgrass is its hardiness and drought resistance. Also its durability when dried. Your guests could actually use your invitations as potholders or coasters. Just an idea!”

“I will make a note of it.”

Even worse were the group tactics, which consisted of e-mailing one another regarding decisions they had made for us as our “key advisors.” Once they were in agreement, they attacked from both flanks, most ardently when we had already selected another option for that particular decision.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

GETTING THE WORD OUT - THE A LIST

Every couple wants everything to be special and unique, with an added wow factor, where possible. So we decided to show off a little, and not to name-drop, but we invited Brad and Jen. Yes, the Pitts, which doesn’t have quite the ring, having just reread it. Did we know Brad and Jen? We at least knew of them through their various exploits covered by US Weekly and E! and were reasonably certain that they would like us. Although they have now split, they were Hollywood’s hottest couple at the time.

How cool (I believe “dorky” could be used as a synonym here) were we? To the best of my knowledge, they received an invite and Save the Date card through Brad’s agency. At least they weren’t returned to us. Although we didn’t immediately receive an RSVP card, a fashionably late response was not unexpected from our celebrity friends.

There were several upside and downside possibilities to this bold maneuver. Let’s play out some scenarios.

Scenario #1: Pitt’s personal assistant receives invite and responds no.

Downside: We are out a few bucks (stamp and materials).

Upside: We can tell everyone we invited Brad and Jen, but their schedules wouldn’t allow them to come.

Scenario #2: Brad and Jen, themselves, actually receive invite and decline to attend.

Downside: Still out a few bucks.

Upside: Brad and Jen are entertained by the invite and Save the Date card and send us a celebrity-sized present or give us a walk-on role in one of their upcoming movies.

Scenario #3: Brad and Jen receive invite and accept the invitation.

Upside: Awesome celebrities at our wedding and a celebrity-sized present for sure.

Downside: No one will remember who got married the day Brad and Jen came to Bloomington. I haven’t the first clue who else we would seat at the new cool table. Worst, we will be too busy to make a good impression on them and be cast in a walk-on role in one of their upcoming movies.

Scenario #4: We don’t hear anything.

Upside: The previously mentioned feeling of cool upon inviting.

Downside: We pay a few bucks to make ourselves feel cool. But as time continues to march on, that starts to look like more and more of a bargain.

Note: The following passage was added during a post-wedding editing session.

Scenario #5 (The Truth): Argument over whether to attend wedding eventually breaks up Brad and Jen.

Upside: Brad’s post-fight escapades with Angelina quickly relieve us of the reported “cause of breakup” burden and subsequent press hounding.

Downside: We miss out on a chance to meet Jen (who wanted to attend) and be cast in a walk-on role in one of her upcoming movies. (Jen, we would still consider accepting a fashionably late celebrity-sized present.)
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival

What Sad Children?

Starting with the various bridal showers, through a few weeks after the wedding, boxes appeared on the front porch containing unknown gifts of wondrous magic and joy. There was always a bit of excitement, as we wondered what could possibly be in each box, because these brown boxes were somehow different from the ones that sadden children. We would bring them into the living room and have a great opening ceremony. However, if it was something we wanted, we already knew what it was. And if it was a surprise, it could be an unpleasant one, that is, something we didn’t want, as indicated by our registry.

The surprises came from those who believe they have superior taste, and those of superior taste believe only they know where it exists. Therefore they seek it, and purchase it, at places they don’t want you to find. Their competitive advantage, in the taste department, must be protected at all costs. These gifts don’t have gift receipts or distinguishing features, such as bar codes, just the piece itself, which is sold only by select retailers in remote places where tasteful people go on secret taste-enhancing vacations.

So, as we sat on the living room floor, one of the following reactions occurred when each box was opened:

“Hey, I remember registering for that.”

Or “Sweet Lord, where did that come from? Is that a monogrammed hand-glazed potato-peeling bowl?”

My advice is to register only for gift cards and cash. No boxes to deal with, no risk of sad children, no muted reaction to opening the gift you knew you were getting. Instead, you get to dream about everything you could get and not be stuck with last season’s furnishings. You can put your whole wedding’s haul right in your pocket and shop until it hurts. Unfortunately, this may encourage the volunteer taste police to take even greater pity on you, as you are apparently incapable of determining anything desirable on your own.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival