That's how many days are left before we must be on a plane, bound for New Jersey and the event of a lifetime (well, of OUR lifetime at any rate). When I looked at the calendar just now and did the math, for a moment I thought, "Naahhhhh, THAT can't be right, I must have counted wrong". (I am mathematically challenged, even with the simplest calculations, so it is entirely possible I could come up with 19 when the correct number might be 17 or 25 or 32. Ask anyone who has seen me do math. It's really quite pathetic.) But no, nineteen days it is. Nineteen days in which to finish organizing and photocopying documents, confirm plans with the caterer and florist (the latter still hasn't called me back to even discuss what I want and give me a price, so I may be getting married holding a bunch of weeds picked in a local field), figure out what to pack and what not to pack, transport the youngest child to his first vacation destination at the beginning of July, and make the early flight to NJ on the 7th. As the date gets ever nearer, I am getting...
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