Welcome to the premiere entry of, well, my life online. For some of you, this will be a welcome return of the now defunct "Hoosier Chronicles," following my mid-20s (MID, Frosty) life in Indiana. To you, I say welcome back. To you others, I say welcome, come on in, join in my insanity....

Which brings me to the current main theme of my life: Marie Kraly Wedding 2005. Otherwise known as, the entire reason my sister was born - I swear, she came out of the womb already bitching that her flowers weren't right, or that the DJ sucked. I'm convinced an unanticipated side effect of MKW05 is to remind that, even though I'm indeed a woman, I am not a girly girl who wishes for a huge, fancy wedding. A wedding, yes, but the importance of the perfect invitation or making sure your ring doesn't look like your friend's? SO lost on me.

No sooner did I graduate from grad school and roll back into Northwest Indiana than I received my first official wedding duties: buy sign-in book for shower, schedule limo for dreaded bachelorette party, attend first wedding dress fitting. This final duty would be the actual first official time I've wanted to place a pistol to my temple. I've joked about it before, but no, friends, this was the first time I contemplated NRA membership.

My mother, sister and I arrive at the wedding shop, my sister already anxious. We check in, the ladies behind the counter look confused, as if to say, 'Marie, you have no appointment. Cue your first crazed reaction of the day.' Mercifully, after about 5 minutes of looking, a woman finds her name. I thank the gods, breathe and wait still for the upcoming hysteria I'm certain will take place in the next 30 minutes. Well, it doesn't take 30....

I learn what my dress duties will be the day of, zip my sister up and wait for the seamstress. She is, as they usually are, a short, sweet older woman. But, because this is MY life, she doesn't speak very much English. Shit. This will not go well, I think. And it doesn't. She starts fiddling with my sister's dress straps, my sister desperately struggling to be patient and clear in her instructions, something she is neither on any given day, let alone when a woman's jacking up 'the most important dress of my life, Christine.' Christ. So of COURSE, in the confusion, here come the waterworks. My sister begins uncontrollably crying, risking getting her dress wet which of COURSE only makes her cry more and order me to go get tissue. CUE MY INSANITY.

The poor seamstress bows out, saying she'll get someone who speaks better English. CUE MY EMBARASSMENT. My sister calms somewhat and apologizes for being the whackjob that she is, we somehow manage to coax another seamstress into taking on Bridezilla and the dress is one step closer to being ready for MKW05. And I'm one step closer to the nuthouse. Up next: the shower next weekend, where my mother will finally get to display fancy schmancy candle favors and her many $100 personalized M&Ms (Mom: "I better not see no hog eating a whole bowl full. They cost too damn much to eat, they're show-and-tell.") And where I'll be in charge of all of the other bridesmaids, ordering them not only to log in each gift, but also to keep refilling my mamosas. Ah, the life of the maid of honor.

OH.....and as if all the MKW05 hoopla weren't hilarious enough, my sister just invited me Friday to something called a "Stampin' Up" party. A-hahahahaha, I swear, I can't stop laughing at this. Has my sister even MET me? For those of you lucky creatures who have, please go to this link and just picture me at one of these parties: http://www.stampinup.com/Web2001/default.asp.

Now cue your laughter.

In other, more uplifting news, I got my master's diploma in the mail today. Looks nice, is spelled right and, well, should look real pretty on a wall of my new apartment. Oh, right, gotta get that apartment first....