Guest Post: Here Comes the Bride

Groom 2 Be's Note: Have you ever noticed that when opportunity knocks there is often a lot more to do than simply opening the door? I have been busy and rather stressed this week. My Betrothed has offered to blog in my place. I am in her debt. Without further ado: Here Comes the Bride!

Hello loyal Impending Groom readers! I hope you don’t mind the quick fill-in, but I’ll be feeding you the funny this week. At least this is a better notice than those little pieces of paper you get in the playbills at plays when they bring in a pinch hitter. You know… I think this is how John (Jen’s husband) got his start on Cakewrecks. Is there a future coffee-table-book deal and US promotional trip in my future?

Sorry. Weddings. That’s what y’all are here for. And that’s what’s been missing, right? What’s all this about nephews and beer cozies? We weren’t even at the store to look for wedding stuff, those crazy things just called out to us! “Come see the Crazy!” It’s amazing how stores are designed specifically to draw me over to the crazy. But I digress. There is one good reason, and a million not so good ones, that Wedding is not getting closer. And that, my dear friends, is irrigation.

Now, the last time I started to tell this story I asked my companions if they knew what irrigation is. They nodded assent. They, in fact, did not understand the true omnipotence of irrigation in the Valley of the Sun. Irrigation, gentle reader, is the life blood of said valley. If I may wax loquacious and pedantic (hey—I studied for the GRE and I am darn well going to get use out of all that time and effort!!) on this topic, I will tell you of the past. There were prehistoric peoples living in that Valley, and they had irrigation canals which sustained agriculture. When Easterners got out here for the dry air to cure their ailments, they thought: ‘hey—some of those nice plants could really settle this desert-wasteland. Let’s bring some of those out here! Now we just need water…’ And so they co-opted and aggrandized those canals and put in grass. Lots and lots of grass. The location of my impending nuptials relies on irrigation for its lush setting. Relies. On. It. So dependent, in fact, that when one savvy soul suggested not signing up for the allotment of irrigation on the date I desire, my come-back was quick and painful: the overflow pipe is on same said lush setting. Even if we don’t take the flood of water that irrigation entails, we are thwarted. And if someone else on the block doesn’t? Doomed.

One little date is all I ask for, and one little date is all that’s been denied. But wait… dates? How does irrigation befuddle the choice of a wedding date you ask? The lovely people at SRP (and they are wonderful, I am *not* being sarcastic), don’t and can’t publish dates until right before that torrent of life giving liquid surges towards your subdivision. So, hopefully, you now understand why you do not have a save the date. And why two other couples who got engaged after us, are getting married before.

A parting thought for you, as I leave: imagine some very, very happy children. They are playing in muddy, probably vector infested water. They are making chocolate milk with the mud and later turn to mud pies. Oh! And there’s a fish that’s come up through the canal system. Their parents let them keep it as a pet. They have no idea the future vexation irrigation will cause.