Wedding Day – Very Long – Please Forgive!

I woke early on Saturday, October 21st, and lay blinking into the darkness in my small room.  I had set the alarm but didn’t need it.  I wandered around the house, knocking on doors, getting my sisters and mother up – we had a lot to do that day.  My dad was assigned drop-off duty – I had the things we needed set into separate piles for the church and reception, and he would be ferrying them to their assigned locations that morning.  The women would be attending a tea in the morning, and then spending a small lifetime inhaling fumes at the salon for the rest of the day.  My brother’s job was sleeping – he made a valiant effort, I think he was still in bed when noon rolled around.

I had decided to do the traditional bridesmaid gratitude luncheon thing, but I wanted to include all the women involved in my wedding.  It was 19 altogether – 1 bride + 6 bridesmaids + 2 mothers + 2 grandmothers (my grandmothers have both passed away) + 1 reader and her 1 mom + 1 flower girl and her 1 mom + 1 singer + 1 guest book attendant + 2 coordinators = 19 people altogether.  I decided to do tea at this ridiculously over the top little tea house in town – then decided to do antipasto at the nice Italian restaurant in the old bank building – then decided to have a picnic at this beautiful old burned out church nearby – then thought about a picnic at the waterfront park.  All of the latter fell through for one reason or another, and in the end I came back to the ridiculous tea house.  I told everyone to dress schlumpy and comfortable – there would be plenty of time to get dolled up later – and at 9am we started arriving at the tea house.  17 of the 19 came, which was good numbers considering the early hour.  The servers were dressed in black and white maids outfits complete with the doily cap on their gray heads.  The room where we had tea was futzy and faux-Victorian, and had tons of wild hats on the walls.  They made us each choose a hat to wear for the duration, and we all sat at little tables with our cream tea, scones, and fruit, chattering and enjoying creme brulee tea, peach strawberry tea, and some delicious little scones.  Lots of pictures were taken, lots of tea was drunk, and the hour passed quickly and merrily.

At 10, the Professor’s side of the aisle (minus his sister, who was stuck with me breathing fumes all day!) were heading out to an outrageously beautiful day in a stunning beachside state park, to a picnic-under-the-lighthouse hosted by his parents and maternal grandparents.  My brother, as he was a groomsman, was also invited, and somehow my dad got him dragged out of bed and looking respectable in time for the picnic lunch.  The 6 bridesmaids, my mother, and I all went to straight to the salon and parked there for 6 hours.  My sister/MOH and mom spent a lot of that time running around picking up and dropping off stuff – the rest of us were in for the long haul.  We started out each on a chair, stuff tucked neatly underneath us, flipping idly through magazines, being called one by one to be curled and sprayed and teased.  By the end we were spread out all over the front lobby, making sandwiches, spilling crumbs, bags overspilling on chairs, taking pictures of everything.  For 6 hours in a salon, it was fun, and I stayed mostly under control (freak-outwise) the whole time.  I forbade clockwatching (for myself), and that helped.  No counting down the minutes, it would have been a long six hours otherwise!

After the marathon salon experience, we headed over to the church in batches – bride and 3 bridesmaids first, while the rest got finished up.  The parlor where we dressed was a nice large room with hardwood floors, clawfoot couches, and (thank heavens) a full length mirror.  My sister-in-law did her makeup, and then stepped outside and practiced her heavenly clarinet solo.  I tried not to bother the saint/friend who had agreed to set up the church for me, though I did wander around a bit and look at the decorations she was putting up.  The clock ticked.  More sisters arrived, with my mother, and the maids started to pull on their dresses.  Our photographer arrived, and I loved her immediately- she was just the right blend of bossy and friendly.  I guess she took some great pictures, though I have not yet seen them . . .  Everyone was dressed, and finally it was time to do me.  I stepped out of my clothes and into my dress, and then my sisters spent a fun few minutes trying to hook up all of the million buttons on the back.  Many jokes were made about the Professor having to undo the buttons later that night.  Then the photographer took the ceremonial photos of the mother of the bride and maid of honor placing the veil on my head – after the photos, the 2 girls who had been maids before stepped in and did it for real, pinning it on tight.  My middle sister strapped on my shoes – more photos – and then my dad came in looking very handsome.  Dad and I stood arm in arm in front of the mirror, and I grinned widely.  It was a few minutes before the ceremony, and we were all ready.

Wait a minute . . . where are the flowers?

Hmmmm.  15 minutes to go and we had no flowers.  I considered freaking out.  Then I decided that as long as the Professor was there, I was there, our families were there, and the rings were there I was OK with no flowers.  We’d get our money back, no big deal.  The Professor says he said the same thing to himself.  At about 5:20 (ceremony due to start in ten minutes) the breathless florist raced in, and we held the ceremony for a few minutes while everyone got bouttoniered and clutched and bouqueted.  I didn’t get mad – what would be the use? – and later found out that she was late because she stayed at my reception site late trying to fix my slumping cake, and then got caught at a drawbridge.  Probably could have planned her day better, but she made it, the flowers were gorgeous, and everything was fine.

Our lovely, friendly, and completely incompetent wedding coordinators got the first part of the wedding wrong and they forgot to come and get my father and I for the bridal march – but everything still happened.  In the wrong order, but it all happened.  My aunt sang Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming, the horrifically out of tune string trio played the processional, the rings were passed, the readings were read, the Professor’s sister played her clarinet solo (did I mention it was heavenly?), we ringed, we vowed, we had a really long and boring communion, we kissed.  As we kissed, a bagpiper started playing in the parlor, and then processed out of the church, with all of us following.  That was my favorite moment – it woke up everyone in the congregation, especially the bridesmaids, and everyone looked startled and then smiled and clapped as he came out.  It was the Professor’s idea.

We had people blow bubbles as we got into the gold Cadillac that the Professor’s dear friend and groomsman Joey had rented for that purpose, and he drove us around the block.  He pulled over at one point and pulled out a mini bottle of champagne and some plastic champagne flutes, and we clinked (or thunked, I guess) and drank and talked nonstop.  After going back to the church for about 20 minutes more for pictures, Joey drove us out to the reception site, which was at a club on a military base.

I’m going to have to finish up the reception and mini moon in one more installment.  For now, my Thanksgiving weekend overindulgence is calling me to bed, with some Tums in hand.