My island caterer is still driving me f'n bonkers. She receives email via her 13-year-old daughter. Her phone, I believe, is installed at the bottom of a well, because I can understand two of every three words she says (if I concentrate). She's flaky and yet high-strung. How is that possible?? And, um, I'm the bride. Shouldn't she be reassuring me that everything will be fine, instead of the other way around?
Meanwhile, H-town remains unruffled by my rants. Which is why I love him, but still infuriating.
But our chef rocks! He's sending us menus, he's sending the caterer recipes, he's sending me layouts for the buffet tables. He asked me what the color scheme was. Not to make fun of me, but because he wanted to know.
(Image courtesy of Torakiki)