Musack, anyone?

I hope our wedding planner-caterer-host is a better planner-caterer-host than he is a speller. We abandoned our pursuit of the perfect pop love song for the processional and now are seeking a string player to guide me down the aisle. Kelley asked Tom if he could recommend a violinist. He emailed back: "We've never had a violinist, only cellowists..."

Temptation

Kelley announced this morning that she is going on a diet, I presumed because the wedding is four weeks away. She had a different marker in mind. "I am going on a diet today," she said, "because the molasses cookies are almost gone."

Pride brides

Almost married people are so queer.

To celebrate Pride Weekend, I decided to get art-n-craftsy and make pink T-shirts for us to wear during the Proud To Run 5K. On the front they read, "Brides-to-be." One the back we had our names. We would've had the dates, too, but I forgot to buy iron-on numbers -- which turned out to be OK b/c people approached us and asked us the date. Kelley claims she was being checked out right and left anyway, but I say a personalized shirt stakes a claim even better than a ring. She's so mine, she thinks wearing matching T-shirts is cool.

Primp my bride

The past few weeks, I have been experimenting with bridal beauty techniques. Despite the disastrous results of my leg and "other" waxing, I had my eyebrows shaped. If you don't count the week I endured tiny, white blisters above my eyes, the results were quite nice. Last weekend, I had my first nail tips glued to my fingers. They've rendered me useless. I cannot open a can, close a window or grab Judy by her scruff to pull a tennis ball out of her mouth. And I felt like it was THE END OF THE WORLD when, on the same day I had the tips fastened to my fingers, a tiny speck of the color rubbed off ... while I was attempting to cut a corn cob in half. I know. What was I thinking? Who cuts corn cobs in half? Why is it so hard to be a girl?

Pretense

Glad I'm not superstitious (knock on wood). I wrote up a ceremony announcement -- in the past tense -- to submit to the Windy City Times in August. I have to keep it to 100-200 words so some of these details will have to go.

After six years of love and commitment, two Chicagoans pledged their lives to one another Saturday, July 29 during an intimate ceremony tucked away in a secluded garden off of Commercial Street in Provincetown, Mass.

Kelley Elizabeth Quinn and Kathryn Mari Phillips were civilly wed by Quinn’s best fried, Mary Joan Collins, in front of 20 witnesses at the Secret Garden Inn on the evening before Phillips’ golden birthday.

The couple chose Provincetown for the ceremony because it was where they fell in love. The ceremony also was meant as a sign of support for the state’s gay marriage law.

Quinn wore a two-piece Ralph Lauren suit, and Phillips wore a floor-length, silk evening dress. They exchanged platinum bands and bands worn by Quinn’s late grandmother, Helen.

Diane Strawser, a corporate saleswoman from Upstate New York, stood up for Quinn, her lifelong friend. Sarah Mesle, a professor from Rogers Park, stood up for Phillips, a college friend from the University of Iowa. Judith Phillips-Quinn, the wedded couple’s German shepherd-chow mix, acted as flower dog.

Quinn, 37, is spokeswoman for Cook County Clerk David Orr’s office and is a former award-winning journalist for the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin and the Aurora Beacon News.

Phillips, 30, is the education reporter for the Daily Southtown and was recently honored by the Chicago Headline Club and Education Writers Association for watchdog reporting.

The couple met in 2000 while working at a newspaper in Upstate New York. They knew they were meant for each other after covering a thwarted Columbine-style shooting at Quinn’s high school alma mater. They agreed it was their best Valentine’s Day ever.

Quinn and Phillips moved to Chicago in 2001 to further their careers and because the city is known for its acceptance of gays and lesbians. They currently live in Wicker Park.

Down to the wire

Six weeks to go. We're down to the nitty gritty. The ceremony is written. The cake is ordered. The bicycle rickshaws that will tour us around Ptown in all our glory are reserved. Still outstanding -- our processional song. If we don't find one soon, we may just hand out kazoos.