Hello, Mrs. Rosenthal

Laurie Cohn
Mirror contributing writer

   As I write this column, I am engaged. If you’re reading this Wednesday-Saturday, I am still engaged. If you’re reading this Sunday, well, that’s my wedding day, and I may be starting the day as Laurie Cohn, but before noon I’ll officially be Laurie Rosenthal. 
   Michael, Mr. Santa Monica Mirror, and I have been engaged since the end of November. Being that we’re hardly young whippersnappers and want to start a family quickly, we opted for a relatively short engagement. 
   Arrangements fell into place painlessly. Whenever something major was accomplished I felt positive and enthusiastic. We got the place, the rabbi, the florist, the photographer, then I found my dress (the first dress I tried on), and so on. Despite the numerous details (my moon in Virgo certainly has been helpful), everything has gone smoothly. Sure, there have been tense moments and a few disagreements, but overall, it’s been a great experience. 
   I’m looking forward to the big day, but I’ll also be glad when it’s over. As I write this, 7 1/2 days before the nuptials, I’m calm, knowing that although there are a few things to do, everything will get done. The biggest task ahead of us is cutting all the name cards so they fit properly into decorative frames. I’ve enlisted Michael’s help because I’m really bad at cutting. Really bad. Perhaps it’s because I’m left handed and never learned correctly in grammar school. 
   As I countdown the last few days of singlehood, I wonder how my life will be different now that I can check the Mrs. box on forms instead of Ms. I can’t think of anything particular at the moment. I moved in with Michael about a week after he proposed, so nothing domestic will change as far as I can see. Actually I just thought of one little thing – Michael will stop calling me wife-to-be, which I’ve grown accustomed to. 
   I suppose there should be some things I want to do with my last few days of “freedom,” but I can’t think of one. I don’t want a bachelorette party, and am not having one. The showers were sufficient. I don’t feel the need to rent all of George Clooney’s movies and have a girls’ night in when Michael has a boys’ night out. I don’t have the desire to sit on the Venice boardwalk and watch all the young hunky guys skate by. My urges are the same as always -– take a hike or two, kayak or two or three, and chill out as much as possible before my parents walk me down the aisle. One parent on each side will prevent any sort of “Runaway Bride” syndrome from happening. Besides, it’s a nice tradition – both my parents walked my brother down the aisle years ago. 
   I don’t know if the days before the marriage will fly by or move s-l-o-w-l-y as can be. Either way, I plan to enjoy it. The few things left to do are fun. I’ll get a manicure and pedicure on Saturday. My hairdresser is going to come over to practice with my hair so it will be perfect on Sunday. My mom and I are going to visit our make-up person, to have our faces made up so we know what to expect. Each will need an hour on my wedding morning. I feel like I’ll get a glimmer of what it’s like being a movie star, having people fuss all over me, me, me.
   The guest list includes family and friends from all over. College friends will be flying in from Oregon and the Bay Area, family will be coming from Marin County, Chicago, Nashville, Las Vegas, New York, Columbus, and right here in Santa Monica (and the Palisades and West Hollywood and other local neighborhoods). It’s quite remarkable to think so many people are making an effort to see Michael and me join ourselves in holy matrimony. It reaffirms that there are a lot of people out there who care about us, and that’s a wonderful thing to be reminded of.
   I’ve decided against hyphenating my name because Laurie Cohn-Rosenthal would be about the Jewiest name ever and a bit too much for me. I’m not sure I’ll change my name on everything right away. I don’t feel like going to the DMV or calling the bank or all the companies I have accounts with. It’s too much work, at least for now. My best friend’s mom, Audrey, told me to keep Cohn as my professional writing name. I probably will, at least for a while. 
   Fittingly enough, as I finish this up and turn on the television, “Guys and Dolls” is on cable. Not just “Guys and Dolls,” but the last scene where Marlon Brando and Frank Sinatra marry their respective sweeties. I guess that’s a good omen for me, since I’ll soon be married to my own sweetie with whom I plan to live with happily ever after.