Most girls dream of their wedding day from a very early age. The perfectly-coordinated color scheme, the aroma of true love in the air, and (of course) that magnanimous dress all synergize to make for a prime fantasy, but this has never been the case with me. In fact, up until a dream I had the other night, the entire concept never even crossed my mind.

Don’t get me wrong - I want to get married one day. I honestly can’t think of anything more important in life than love, and making a home with someone has always been at the forefront of my mind. I guess I just always looked at a wedding as being more than simply one day - glitter and bells that’s over and done with in five hours. To me, it’s always been seen as a new chapter in life, so why bother fantasizing about it until you find someone worth turning the page for?

That was until a couple of nights ago, when my inner girly-girl came out amidst some good, old-fashioned REM. In this dream, I found myself actually planning my wedding, and it was (in a word) fun. So much fun, in fact, that upon waking, I couldn’t resist logging onto David’s Bridal to start browsing (which, if I may say, does not have a very good selection). But that’s just my opinion. Nevertheless, I was like a kid in a candy store, until the reality that I’m not really planning a wedding set in. Suddenly, I felt a bit foolish.

But I digress. The peticulars of this dream I do not recall, but the flowers stand out most to me. They were a humble yet rich assortment of daisies, and not the hot-pink/purple/orange Gerber kind. Nope, they were the God-given, all-natural blossoms of the earth, adorned with perfectly white petals and yellow centers. For some reason, I’d take those over a bouquet of roses any day. I really don’t know why. I guess they just remind me of spring, my favorite season (also known as “wedding season”).

My beautiful bridesmaids were sunkissed and radiant in light-yellow, A-line dresses (strapless, of course) with an ever-so thin white band hugging their waists. Jeannie was the HBIC (that’s Head Bitch In Charge, for those less acquainted with the Urban Dictionary) as my Maid-of-Honor, and I honestly do not recall who the other girls were. I think one was Mandy, and the others…uh…? Damn, I guess I need to find more girl friends. Maybe my fiance will have a sister or two he can donate to the cause.

The overall vibe of the ceremony was very natural and springy (think wild flowers, Baby’s Breath, and sun rays beaming through the church windows). I think I just might go with that theme if the day ever comes. The only thing that was missing was my dress (funny, you’d think that would be the first thing on my mind). But after some casual online browsing, I think I have an idea of what I’d like it to look like (an idea which, I’m sure, will change over the coming years).

First off, since the good Lord saw it fit to properly “endow” me, the top would have to be V-necked or sweetheart shaped to do any good at all. A “uni-boob” is most unflattering (all my “busty babes” know what I’m talking about). Secondly, I’m leaning towards strapless, as it provides the sex without being slutty. Some nice lace or pearl embroidery would also be key.

Finally, if (when the time comes) I still manage to have maintained somewhat of a figure, the dress will have to be form-fitting. Browsing through the catalogues, it’s astonishing how “in” the poofy, Cinderella look is nowadays, but none of it appealed to me. I want my gown ever-so slightly hugging my frame, with a train that trails just barely behind my feet. Add in a low-cut back, and just the thought of it makes me feel like a princess.

Actually, just writing all of this kind of makes me want to cry. I know, I know, I’m being silly, but if you think about it, all of this planning for nothing is pretty silly too. But a girl can dream, can’t she? In fact, I think the only thing I haven’t planned out was the music of the day. Maybe I’ll get a mini-orchestra to play Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” during the Communion procession. I got that idea from “The Wedding Singer.”

I’m sure God loves Journey.

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.

3. It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.

4. Don’t be irreplaceable. If you can’t be replaced, you can’t be promoted.

5. Always remember that you’re unique. Just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7. If you think nobody cares if you’re alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving is not for you.

10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

12. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.

13. Some days you’re the bug; some days you’re the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like ‘The Force’. It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same day.

I woke up yesterday feeling like garbage (most of which I attribute to the ridiculous pollen count, and a rainy date outdoors with a hot guy named Sean on Friday night, but I digress). After a pathetic attempt to work a full eight hours, I finally caved in on a half-day’s work to give me time to recooperate (and medicate). No sooner had I hit the doctor’s parking lot did my best friend Jeannie call to tell me she was having a baby. Suddenly, I felt much better.

If any of you are like me, your CD collection is a mixture of burnt discs (most of which are unlabeled and you have absolutely no idea what’s on them). There are certain ones you turn to regularly (which I call “Old Faithfuls”), while others you overlook almost as if they don’t even exist. One of these latter discs (which I conveniently labeled “Tara’s Party Mix”) was compiled by Jeannie and I during our dorm-room days in college (prior to when using Napster was a legal issue).

Its contents are a mixture of Paul Oakenfold, Incubus, and some miscellaneous gangster rap, among other tunes. At the time, these songs were the soundtrack to our ignorant youth, but in light of yesterday’s glorious news, I somehow felt compelled to put one track in particular on repeat mode - The Beatles “A Day in the Life.”

This one is a favorite of Jeannie’s and mine for many reasons, but yesterday, it struck a chord in my heart that had never been touched before. For those who haven’t heard the song, it is a prime example of The Beatles’ ability to bring out happiness, sadness, inspiration, hope, fear and more out of you in one single composition. I highly recommend you download it (legally through Napster, of course). In fact, hearing it is the only way to interpret the quotated phrases in my letter below.

A lot has changed since those dorm-room days. Getting wasted has been replaced with getting married; saving money has taken the place of wasting it (kind of); and strangely enough, spending a quiet night at home with loved ones is way cooler than hitting the clubs until 2 in the morning. In light of all this (and I realize I’m babbling), I could not help but hear the lyrics of this Beatles’ classic in an entirely new light while en route to Labor & Delivery. I guess you could say I’m growing up. Whatever you call it, I felt the need to translate it in a letter to my new niece, Carrie Grace, which undoubtedly she is unable to read at present.

Dear Carrie Grace -

I will always remember the very first second we met each other. Unlike most newborns, you set your brand new pair of eyes directly onto mine, and I could tell in an instant that you’d grow up to be the inquisitive type. Grandpa’s flashing camera, Cortland’s instantaneous tears, the multiple faces eager to get up close to yours – you were oblivious to none of it. Instead of crying, you quietly absorbed your new surroundings, occasionally responding with a smile or a coo. You are truly an earth angel.

Well Earth Angel, one day (most likely in your adulthood) you may find yourself interested in “the news today.” Some of it may be uplifting (the hungry being fed, or “man’s best friend” saving his life), but don’t be surprised to find yourself distressed at most of it. Life is filled with both good and bad, but summer’s warmth can only truly be appreciated after winter’s bitter chill. Your job is to be that warmth to everyone around you – a light in the darkness - and always remember that (despite each day’s bad news), love truly does conquer all. Arm yourself with it.

But let’s not worry about all that stuff for the time being, shall we? Before you find yourself in the vicious cycle of “waking up, falling out of bed, and dragging a comb across your head,” your only job at present is to be young – the best job you will ever have. Trust me sweetie, rushing through red and green lights only to clock-in at 9 a.m. to pay your bills will be here sooner than you think, so don’t grow up too fast. You are a child of God, and as such, have every right to enjoy all the beauty He has created for you – no matter how old you are.

There are tons of bugs to catch, ice cream cones to eat, and sunshine to bask in (the latter two of which I still do regularly). Not that there’s anything wrong with trapping bugs - just make sure the jelly jar is empty before using it (or mom and dad might be awful sore). But no matter how many “jelly jars” you sneak out of the fridge, always remember that you were born into love. I’ve known your parents for several years, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen them smile like they did the day you were born. Something tells me you’ll have that affect on lots of people.

Always remember that nothing beats a summer night on the ballfield with a hotdog in one hand and your dad’s hand in the other; honeysuckle is indeed edible; and lightening bugs glow on your skin if you smush them. And when you get older, never forget that The Beatles are the greatest rock band ever to exist (regardless of what you and your little girlfriends are listening to on mainstream radio). But most importantly, never lose sight of the fact that the world is filled with warm sunsets, majestic mountains, tranquilizing waters, interesting lands and more – all of which will be at your feet if only you keep your heart open to them. Yet despite all of these (the mightiest of God’s creations), I have no doubt saying you are the most beautiful.

I’m positive He thinks so too.

I live every day of my life according to the adult creed – respect authority, work like a dog, and pay bills until you grow old and die. But underneath the surface is my seven-year-old self, long-expired but still very much alive. Twenty years later, she has no idea how her outer shell has aged, and every day she throws that age-old temper tantrum to be let out again. It’s only the adult creed that prevents me from giving her the key.

People say that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, but I’d have to disagree. No, for me it’s sound (namely music) that takes me back. My friends used to kid me about being a hippie, but only because of that horrid wool wrap-around coat I stole from mom’s 1960s wardrobe. Adorned with brown, orange and beige embroidery, nowadays I’d get shot wearing that out in public (or severely mocked). But I consider it an antique, and as so, I refuse to throw it out. I guess I am a hippie at heart.

While I’m a fan of all genres, there’s something about classic rock that triggers that inner seven-year-old in me. Led Zeppelin, Boston, Todd Rundgren, Jimi Hendrix – the list could go on and on. When you’re under the legal driving age, you’re not only forced to be carted around town in your parents’ car; you’re also forced to listen to whatever they wanted to listen to. Needless to say, my childhood was one big “Hits of the 60s” soundtrack, and to this very day, you couldn’t convince me that there was (or ever will be) any music greater.

One of my first memories was splashing around in the water at my aunt’s lake house in Upstate NY. I can still hear the sound of “Who’ll Stop the Rain?” playing in the background – one of Credence Clearwater Revival’s greatest songs (in my opinion). Back then, I hardly paid it any attention; it was just noise in the background. I had no idea that twenty years later, its sounds would linger in my memory like they have. It’s funny, but I’m in my late-20s, and every time I go back to visit that lake house, I have to fight to not cry upon leaving it again. It’s really not that hard to do. All I do is listen to the adult in me lecture that, “Grown women do not cry.” That usually shuts me up.

People laugh when I tell them I watch “The Golden Girls,” and frankly, I do not care. Not only is it a hilarious show (Sophia is just too funny), but I will always remember it as the final 30 minutes before my bedtime. Mom and I watched it every Friday night (or Saturday night, I forgot exactly when it came on), and as soon as the credits rolled, she’d carry me up to bed and tuck me in. She’d ask me how much I loved her, and I’d stretch out my foot-long arms as far as they’d go and say, “This much!” Funny, but I could never get them to stretch as far as I felt I loved her. That was fun.

Every cable company has at least one channel that plays those feel-good shows from way back when, and sometimes (when I need a pick-me-up), I’ll watch them. It’s amazing how something as simple as the theme song from a show you watched as a tike can affect you. I would have to say my favorite was “The Wonder Years,” set off by that infamous Joe Cocker tune. Once a month, my mom would get her hair dyed at my Aunt Alyce’s house, who was a stylist at the time. I’d sit in her living room, watch that show, and make this ridiculously long Christmas list that Santa Claus could never afford (even if he was real).

I don’t know why I’m rehashing all of this with you people, and I apologize if I bored you to death. I guess I’m mostly just doing it for me. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m now an adult, and the blissfulness of childhood is only a memory. You only get one chance to be a kid, and mine has come and gone.

Kids - don’t grow up too fast.