Why not elope?
Well, here is my wedding blog. Yes, my brother was married last weekend. Remember, he is my baby brother...the one who I begged my mother to let me rock, sing to, walk in a stroller and sleep in my room. The one I took to see "Grizzly" when he was nine, which insured his sleeping in the other twin bed in my room for the rest of my high school years. (That was one scary movie!). HE got married. I never thought it would happen, frankly, because he made it to age 39 unscathed, but Cupid's arrow struck him right through the heart and he married Patty with all the love and devotion and hoopla that I've seen since Di and Charles (almost). Only this one will have a much better ending.
John and Patty are both 39 and have both been to countless weddings and IN countless weddings. This of course, upped the ante for their "do". I had never been to any wedding when I was married at age 21, so I was pretty happy with a dress and a cake and surprised that you were supposed to have flowers all over the church. THEY were married in a chapel on a ranch. It required driving on dark, winding roads along a river. It required sending detailed maps out to the guests and then being harangued by them as they called, one by one, lost in the hill country. It required people with flashlights parking us and then taking us to the chapel by golf cart, which did a number on everyone's hair. But, it was WAY better than "church and cake in the reception area".
Before the wedding, the immediate family (23 of us, including eight children mostly under 7) stayed at the "River House". I got to meet Patty's family "up close and personal". None of the bathrooms had locks. Remember the eight children? Most of them couldn't read the handwritten on napkin signs that said "KNOCK FIRST". We also slept in bunk rooms....mine being referred to as the "cave". It had eight bunks, and no closets. No lights except dim reading lights on each bed, and no LOCK. No mirror either. Remember, we were there for a wedding? I had a tux to hang on the hook, and a bridesmaid dress, and ten different outfits I thought I would try on to see which hid fat best. I had to get ready without a mirror or even a locked door. By the time I squinted through the darkness in our cave getting rowdy son's studs poked through the tiny buttonholes, I had no time for ME. It was imperative that I was adorable, because even though my brother was the one getting married, and the bride looked glamorous, it is ALWAYS ABOUT ME in my family. But, there was no time for that.
Fine, I thought, I'll just throw on my clothes and mess with my hair and makeup at the chapel/ranch. We hurried out about 90 minutes early and when we got there, we were informed that the chapel had NO bride's room. We put our "stuff" under the stairs. I squatted on the floor to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored backs of some antique pews. The hair was a joke because the wedding "photojournalist" had us out in the wind for most of the photos. You know, realism. As for me, I think realism has NO PLACE at a wedding. Bring on the photoshop.
So the cute part was out. Then the ceremony began. I have to say, I understand just a bit of what Britney Spears feels towards the paparazzi...this photographer was everywhere at once. I teared up and sniffled a bit during the ceremony..FLASH. I laughed here and there...FLASH. It was getting annoying, but hey...they got their money's worth I guess, since he took FIVE MILLION photos.
After the ceremony, when we went outside for yet more windy cold pictures, he kept referring to me as "the lady who cried" when he was moving us around. I wanted him to refer to me as "the lady who hit me", but I restrained myself.
The reception was lovely. The food was terrific. I think I ate the garnish. I couldn't see a THING. It was nicely dim, you know, candles and such...and well, I'm 45 and need my reading glasses to see anything. They aren't cute, so I didn't get to read the menu, but I did see something that looked like fruit salad. When I ate it, it tasted like raw turnips. I asked people if they had the "crunchy, bland stuff" and they just stared at me. I'm pretty sure it was just there for show. At least it wasn't plastic. I would have eaten it anyway.
The paparazzi showed up again at the dance. I was so close to slugging that guy. My brother reached out and grabbed me for the traditional dance with parents...he has no parents, sadly, so instead, even more sadly, he danced with ME. I'm still embarrassed. I felt fat, windblown, full of turnips and not the least graceful. But he hugged me tightly and told me he loved me and that meant more to me than all of that. (well, not the fat part, but then again, remember...it's always all about me).
The band was great. It played every song I danced to in high school. Since John was all of 11 at the time, it's kind of amazing that he picked the songs he did. When "Lido" came on, I was back in 1978 at my prom! Rowdy son has a future career as a disco dude. He shook what his mama gave him all night long. Perfect daughter danced swing perfectly, and she and mr. herewegoagain even looked like Fred and Ginger for a song or two. I confined my gyrations to dancing with kids under 10 and had fun.
We sent them off with sparklers. I was a bit nervous, knowing that Patty's dress was real silk and highly flammable. Thankfully sweet daughter DID not ignite her. Those who know sweet daughter know that was a very real fear of mine! John called me to the convertible, I leaned in, and he hugged me again and said again how much he loved me. If that photographer got the shot from behind as I leaned in....well, he's a dead man.
Now I know why people cry at weddings.
John and Patty are both 39 and have both been to countless weddings and IN countless weddings. This of course, upped the ante for their "do". I had never been to any wedding when I was married at age 21, so I was pretty happy with a dress and a cake and surprised that you were supposed to have flowers all over the church. THEY were married in a chapel on a ranch. It required driving on dark, winding roads along a river. It required sending detailed maps out to the guests and then being harangued by them as they called, one by one, lost in the hill country. It required people with flashlights parking us and then taking us to the chapel by golf cart, which did a number on everyone's hair. But, it was WAY better than "church and cake in the reception area".
Before the wedding, the immediate family (23 of us, including eight children mostly under 7) stayed at the "River House". I got to meet Patty's family "up close and personal". None of the bathrooms had locks. Remember the eight children? Most of them couldn't read the handwritten on napkin signs that said "KNOCK FIRST". We also slept in bunk rooms....mine being referred to as the "cave". It had eight bunks, and no closets. No lights except dim reading lights on each bed, and no LOCK. No mirror either. Remember, we were there for a wedding? I had a tux to hang on the hook, and a bridesmaid dress, and ten different outfits I thought I would try on to see which hid fat best. I had to get ready without a mirror or even a locked door. By the time I squinted through the darkness in our cave getting rowdy son's studs poked through the tiny buttonholes, I had no time for ME. It was imperative that I was adorable, because even though my brother was the one getting married, and the bride looked glamorous, it is ALWAYS ABOUT ME in my family. But, there was no time for that.
Fine, I thought, I'll just throw on my clothes and mess with my hair and makeup at the chapel/ranch. We hurried out about 90 minutes early and when we got there, we were informed that the chapel had NO bride's room. We put our "stuff" under the stairs. I squatted on the floor to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored backs of some antique pews. The hair was a joke because the wedding "photojournalist" had us out in the wind for most of the photos. You know, realism. As for me, I think realism has NO PLACE at a wedding. Bring on the photoshop.
So the cute part was out. Then the ceremony began. I have to say, I understand just a bit of what Britney Spears feels towards the paparazzi...this photographer was everywhere at once. I teared up and sniffled a bit during the ceremony..FLASH. I laughed here and there...FLASH. It was getting annoying, but hey...they got their money's worth I guess, since he took FIVE MILLION photos.
After the ceremony, when we went outside for yet more windy cold pictures, he kept referring to me as "the lady who cried" when he was moving us around. I wanted him to refer to me as "the lady who hit me", but I restrained myself.
The reception was lovely. The food was terrific. I think I ate the garnish. I couldn't see a THING. It was nicely dim, you know, candles and such...and well, I'm 45 and need my reading glasses to see anything. They aren't cute, so I didn't get to read the menu, but I did see something that looked like fruit salad. When I ate it, it tasted like raw turnips. I asked people if they had the "crunchy, bland stuff" and they just stared at me. I'm pretty sure it was just there for show. At least it wasn't plastic. I would have eaten it anyway.
The paparazzi showed up again at the dance. I was so close to slugging that guy. My brother reached out and grabbed me for the traditional dance with parents...he has no parents, sadly, so instead, even more sadly, he danced with ME. I'm still embarrassed. I felt fat, windblown, full of turnips and not the least graceful. But he hugged me tightly and told me he loved me and that meant more to me than all of that. (well, not the fat part, but then again, remember...it's always all about me).
The band was great. It played every song I danced to in high school. Since John was all of 11 at the time, it's kind of amazing that he picked the songs he did. When "Lido" came on, I was back in 1978 at my prom! Rowdy son has a future career as a disco dude. He shook what his mama gave him all night long. Perfect daughter danced swing perfectly, and she and mr. herewegoagain even looked like Fred and Ginger for a song or two. I confined my gyrations to dancing with kids under 10 and had fun.
We sent them off with sparklers. I was a bit nervous, knowing that Patty's dress was real silk and highly flammable. Thankfully sweet daughter DID not ignite her. Those who know sweet daughter know that was a very real fear of mine! John called me to the convertible, I leaned in, and he hugged me again and said again how much he loved me. If that photographer got the shot from behind as I leaned in....well, he's a dead man.
Now I know why people cry at weddings.
posted by herewegoagain at
7:44 AM
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