I was supposed to be a low-maintenance bride. I am usually “the easygoing one.” Our florist would disagree. As I stood in front of his 20 foot refrigerator and pointed to every type of flower, telling him which to put in our arrangements, and which should, under no circumstances , even come near our venue, it was clear that “easygoing” was long gone.
To be fair, ours was not an easy wedding to plan. It had to be carefully calibrated to satisfy myself, my fiancé, my Conservative Jewish feminist mother, my steadfastly egalitarian, Reform-leaning father, and my halachically-minded Modern Orthodox in-laws. There were times when we were so at odds that I honestly thought we would have to call it off. When something came up that halacha had no ruling on, that somehow was left to my discretion, I overcompensated and became controlling. For instance, when the caterer tried to replace the broccolini in our entrée with asparagus, I sent a flurry of emails confirming and reconfirming that the broccolini would stay.
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