I am generally uneasy when things go too smoothly. Clarity of vision and ease of execution merely lull one into a dream state. Stumbling, however, keeps one awake and alert.

Take the rings, for instance. After a flurry of shopping-like activity, we chose a ring that is perfection itself. When it arrived, we were also delighted to see that the wedding band intended to match it does indeed match. The problem? The 8 we were certain was my size turned out not to be my size and the ring spun a little loosely on the finger. No matter, I said. It wasn’t that much too big and I had no intention of taking it off.

The woman at the jewelry store where we took the wedding band to get engraved, however, told me in no uncertain terms to get it resized. I still wasn’t ready to take it off. I did ask for the wedding band to be shrunk to 7 ½ before it was engraved, though.

Meanwhile, the ring I bought for my Dear One was ready at a different location. I picked it up, looked at it, and gasped. The wrong date had been engraved! Where I expected to see “6 February 2010” I saw 2 February 2010.” I looked at the order form. There, in my own neat block capitals, I saw “2 February 2010.” Back it went and the engraver simply erased the 2 and replaced it with a 6.

A week went by; it was time to pick up my own band. It looked pretty. It fit perfectly.

I pulled my glasses down on my nose so I could peer into the ring. I turned it and turned it and turned it. No letters, no numbers.

What happened to the engraving? Just how bad is my eyesight anyway?

The assistant stuck a loupe in his eye and examined the ring. Nope, nothing. Not to worry, I was assured, the ring would be engraved on time, by Tuesday in fact, it was just an oversight, so terribly sorry, we do apologize, please be certain that all will be well.

It had better be. As a supreme act of confidence, I left my diamond with them to be sized and engraved; they are supposed to be ready today.

Then last night, as I dragged in exhausted from a long first day of teaching, I found an e-mail from Our Astronomer, he who will be my step-son-in-law. Our Astronomer had been asked to deliver a presentation via computer link to a group in Hawaii on February 6. Was there a way we could reschedule the planned get-together?

We had locked in the day, you see, without full candor as to the specifics of the agenda.

My Dear One and I looked at each other. He asked for the telephone. Two calls later, both of his daughters had been apprised of the upcoming nuptials. Our Astronomer is negotiating a different time to give his paper. My Tattooed Boy hears the news tonight that when we celebrate his birthday.

I have ordered flowers, pink roses and creamy gardenias for me and a gardenia for the Dear One’s lapel. We’ll see how that goes.

Bridal couture is still a matter of speculation.

Now on to the wedding cake.