We now continue the ongoing saga of panning the October weeding of my daughter Casey and her finance Alex.
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentiond this, but althogh I rite for a living, Im a lousy proofreader.
(I will now discontinue my little visual joke, although this does not guarantee there will be no further errors in this post, because, well, I refer you to the last paragraph.)
When I read something, I know what’s supposed to be there, and my brilliant mind makes the correction for my eyes, sort of like an automatic spell check. That may be fine for texting on your smart phone, but it’s not helpful if you’re actually trying to find mistakes.
I tell you about this shortcoming of mine because we recently received proofs of the
wedding invitations from somewhere in Tennessee, where the invitation designer lady lives. As previously reported in this blog, Casey found this person on Etsy. Her designs are inventive and complex and memorable, with multiple pieces, and lots of opportunities for bad proofreaders to miss things.
The proofs arrived via email in PDF form. Casey, my wife Barbara and myself were together at the time, but not home, so our first look at them was on our iPhones, which is better than you might think for catching mistakes, since, by the time you enlarge something enough to actually be able to read it, you’re basically looking at one word at a time. And, anyway, it was pretty easy to see that the groom’s last name was spelled wrong.
Then there was the time of the ceremony, shown as 6:30 instead of 7:00, which wouldn’t by itself have been horrible, because there are a few people we know who are habitually late. For the rest of our guests, arriving a half hour early would be the least of their problems, since the date of the wedding was shown as
SATURDAY THE TWELFTH OF JANUARY
TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN
which would not only have meant they’d be standing out in the cold for a half hour, but they’d have to travel through time in order to be prompt. Plus, we wouldn’t even have known they were coming, since the RSVP date was “August 30, 2015.”
I feel it is safe to say that these poor people, having gone through a black hole to go back in time, only to shiver in the January cold for a half hour before being admitted and finding out there were no table cards for them because they waited until the last minute of the wrong year to return their RSVPs, would be wanting to return the gifts they had bought, which might have been difficult since the receipts had dates later than the dates on which they would be returning the merchandise. Or something like that.
I always struggle with the logic of time travel stories.
And, anyway, even if they had sent back the RSVPs this year, we might not have received them, since the zip code on the reply envelopes was wrong.
It was obvious we’d have to really go over the proofs with a fine-toothed comb and a big-sized screen. So the next day, Casey, Barb and I eyed everything very carefully. We also enlisted the eyes of Casey’s Aunt Karen, who had recently discovered typos in the bridal shower invitations that everyone else had missed.
We found a few more things, and we wanted the invitation lady to remove the chicken, fish, cow and carrot icons from the RSVP card because, a)we didn’t need people to tell us in advance what they wanted for dinner, b) the chicken icon looked like a leaf with feet, and c)we weren’t even serving chicken.
I was proud of myself for finding the zip code typo (06093 instead of 06903), which is precisely the kind of thing I usually gloss over. And we’d obviously have to very carefully look things over before giving final approval on the next round of proofs.
But the invitations looked fabulous, which goes to prove the axiom that the better the designer is, the more typos there will be. Barbara, for instance, who used to be a designer, has never once in her life used “your” and “you’re” in the right context. I’m sure the major errors, like the wedding date, were a result of the invitation lady using a template from the last time this particular design was ordered. I’m sure of this because I do it all the time when I write for my job.
Anyway, we got corrected proofs the next day, and the dates were correct, as were the zip codes and the groom’s name. It even included Alex’s middle name, Mehr, which only looks like a typo.
Sea you soooon.