Our Wedding, Our Way

As of Friday, Daniel and I are no longer “living in sin”. So that’s a relief, eh? On Thursday morning, our witnesses arrived from out of town – my mother from Erie and my sister from Newark. While Daniel worked Thursday, I got to spend some quality time with my mom and sis just hanging out. Thursday night we all went out for dinner at Las Maracas where my sister met my husband for the first time.

I know, weird right? Two of the most important people in my life hadn’t met until that moment. In the 2 years that Daniel and I had been dating, there had just never been a time when both he and Bethany were in the same place at the same time. I have to say, that was the most stressful part of the entire wedding weekend for me…even more stressful than the whole courthouse fiasco (keep reading…just keep reading).

It’s not that I actually believed they would hate each other, I just wasn’t sure how their personalities would mesh. Daniel has never had a sister-in-law and Bethany has never had a brother-in-law. It’s a first for both of them. Fortunately, they now have many many years of harassing each other...er...getting to know one another! Heh.

Daniel made our marriage ceremony appointment weeks ago for 10:30 am on Friday July 10th at the Nashville Courthouse. Last week when we went to get our marriage license at the County Clerks office, they told us that the ceremony would take place at the A.A. Birch Building downtown. The County Clerks office is no where near downtown – which I find odd, but whatever. So fine. We had a downtown address for the A.A. Birch Building. We assumed, foolishly perhaps, that someone would give us further direction when we arrived Friday morning and so, with our marriage license in hand, we skipped out of the County Clerk’s office without a care in the world.

Fast forward to Friday, July 10th

10:00 am: En route to pick up mother and sister from hotel.

10:15 am: En route downtown to A.A. Birch Building on 2nd Avenue.

10:35 am: Arrive at 2nd Avenue. Fail to recognize A.A. Birch Building. End up back across the Woodland Bridge.

10:40 am: Re-arrive at 2nd Avenue. Fail to recognize A.A. Birch Building. Again. Determine building signage generally sucks.

10:45 am: Decide to park beneath courthouse and go from there.

At this point we are already 15 minutes late and we still have no idea which building is the A.A. Birch Building. In case you are unfamiliar, the parking garage under the courthouse is a deadly labyrinth with no clear pedestrian exit. None of us had ever been in this dark carbon monoxide gas chamber beneath the Nashville courthouse. We are law abiding citizens. We do not hang out at the courthouse.

Finding no way out, we hiked back up the way we drove in, passing signs that read: “NOT A PEDESTRIAN WALKWAY”. In our desperate attempt to reach daylight, we ignored those signs. Once we finally emerged to street level, we asked some innocent bystander the location of the fucking A.A. Birch Building.

You may find yourself asking, why the hell didn’t they just google the location before they left? Quite simple, really. That would be due to our stupidity.

10:50 am (or so…I wasn’t really keeping track of time anymore as much as I was just hauling ass): Finally found the A.A. Birch Building and went through the metal detectors. Nothing says wedding like metal detectors. Once cleared by security, we walked into the grand lobby of the A.A.B.B. and immediately proceeded to the Information Desk where we were unassisted and verbally assaulted by the Green Dragon Lady.

Seriously. Maybe her cat died that morning or she woke up with wicked gas. I don’t know, but she clearly had something lodged in her anus. She couldn’t or wouldn’t understand that we had an appointment and just kept sighing heavily and mumbling something about working us in. She was monumentally pissed off that we did not know the name of the judge who would be performing the ceremony and really was at a loss as to what to do with us. Finally she told us to go wait in Courtroom 1A, down the hall, until someone could help us.

We opened the door to Courtroom 1A and were greeted by a full criminal court room in session. Naturally, every head turned around to stare and after a brief deer-in-the-headlights moment, we all immediately turned on our heels and walked back out without saying a word.

My mom and I sat on a bench in the hall while Daniel ventured back into Courtroom 1A to see if he could talk to the court officer, and my sister marched right back to the Green Dragon Lady ready for battle. While we were sitting in the hall, a random court officer walked by and asked us if we were there for court. We told her that no, in fact, we were there to get married. She, unlike the Green Dragon Lady, was very nice and told us she would let someone know we were there and in the meantime we could wait (away from the criminals) in the empty Courtroom 1B.

Daniel emerged from Courtroom 1A. Having recently established a rapport with the court officer in 1A, he was certain someone would be helping us soon. My mother went off to pry Bethany from the Green Dragon Lady’s throat and then we all sat down in Courtroom 1B patiently waiting for someone…anyone…who could tell us where to go or what to do.

So, we waited. And waited. And wondered if our conversation was being recorded. And then waited some more. A man in a dark suit and lawyer hair walked through the courtroom. This man did not look at us nor did he acknowledge our existence. Then, a few minutes later, he walked back through the way he came and never cast us a curious glance.

We waited some more.

I took this opportunity to snap a few pictures. I know you all want photos of this wedding thing, and I hate to disappoint you, but y’all know I am just not a reliable nor talented picture taker. Neither is Daniel. And my mom informed us early on that she had forgotten to bring her camera with her. Plus, none of us really like having our picture taken. So the photographic evidence from this event is slim to none. Sorry. But since I was bored in Courtroom 1B, I whipped out the camera and took these:







See? We're just not a photography-friendly family.


Finally, a woman emerged into the courtroom. “Are you all here to get married?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“Well, come on with me. We thought y’all were no-shows. We had no idea y’all were waiting down here. We was just gettin’ ready to leave for the day. I don’t know why no one sent you upstairs to the 3rd floor – that’s where we do the marriage ceremonies”.

She was talking to us as we followed her up to the 3rd floor and down the hall to the judge’s office (chambers?). It was a relief to finally meet someone who seemed to understand our mission and was competent enough to provide explicit direction. This woman, this lovely, lovely, angel of mercy woman ushered us into the judge’s ... area, and softly closed the door behind her as she departed.

The judge was a good ol’ southern boy with a great accent and a jovial demeanor. He was incredibly friendly and seemed genuinely delighted to be performing our marriage ceremony. If I had to guess, I’d say it took about 7 minutes total. My mom signed as a witness, the judge gave a little speech about marriage, Daniel and I exchanged vows and rings, kissed and hugged and laughed and snorted, and that was that. Once we finally got to where we were going, it was effortless and lovely.

We walked downstairs, gave the stink eye to the Green Dragon Lady and walked through security into the late morning sunshine. Married.



And then we couldn’t find our car. It was the whole labyrinth thing combined with our newlywed euphoria and our navigational ineptitude.

My mother took us all to the Mad Platter for lunch and then we went to Gigi’s to pick up Wedding Cake Cupcakes and then we went to Midtown Printing to pick up our announcements.

And then we went home. Married. And took a nap.

FYI: If I have your address, I’ll be mailing you your very own announcement to pin on your refrigerator, sit on your desk, or line your hamster cage. Soon. And if I don’t have your address, allow me to officially announce our marriage:



Yes, you read that right. We are both changing our last name. Welcome to the 21st Century! DeFelice is Daniel's mother's maiden name. Early on, we decided it would be unfair for only one of us to change our identity. So, using my mother-in-law's maiden name seemed like a good option for many reasons...not the least of which is the coolness factor. Oh c'mon. DeFelice is a cool name - especially because neither one of us looks Italian.

Daniel's mother is the last DeFelice in her family and when Daniel told his sister we were going to use it as our last name she told him that their dad almost changed his last name to their mother's when they got married (which would've been really radical for the time). So, it's a neat name. It has family significance without being overtly patriarchal. We'll be sharing a name in a more egalitarian way and we get to correct people when they mispronounce it. Heh.

DeFelice = deh - feh - lee - chee

In a month we'll be spending a week in Erie to visit and celebrate with family and friends and then in September we'll be taking off for our honeymoon in Egypt and Jordan.

So, there you have it. We're married. And we did it our way.

Skipping the "Bride" Part

In five days my official relationship status will be changing from ENGAGED to MARRIED. I will go from GIRLFRIEND to WIFE. And I'm leaving out the BRIDE part. That’s right, I’m willfully skipping the bride part. You see, I want to BE married, but I don’t want to GET married. This is tricky. Very tricky.

We exist in a bride/wedding dominant culture. Have you noticed? Approximately 2.5 million weddings take place every year in the United States. The whole wedding racket monster is an estimated 40-70 BILLION dollar industry. There are TV series dedicated to brides and weddings and wedding planners, and all the stress and snafus that go along with the typical wedding celebration. And even with people cutting back on wedding expenses due to the soft economy, the average couple still spends over $28,000 on their wedding. Let me repeat that. Average couple = TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS. Christ Almighty.

When I casually mention I’m getting married to anyone who doesn’t know me well, as they gaze at my non-existent engagement ring in puzzlement, they ask a bazillion questions like, “How’s the planning going?”, “Are you overwhelmed yet with the planning?”, “Where are you having the reception?”, “Who’s doing your flowers?”, “Who’s doing your cake?”, “What does your dress look like?”

And then I have to awkwardly explain that I’m not doing any of that. And my questioner seems slightly embarrassed, and then I have to lighten it up with inappropriate laughter and a “Yeah, we just, ya know, wanted to keep it simple…see, we just bought a house, and really didn’t want to deal with the…the traditional…hoop-lah, so yeah, it’ll be really simple, oh! but, then we’ll be going to my hometown in August to, ya know…have a little party to, uh, to celebrate… and then in September we’ll be going on a honeymoon.”

And finally, with the mention of “honeymoon” I give them something familiar to latch onto and their eyes light up as they ask where we’re going. When I announce we’ll be going to Cairo and Amman, they smile slightly and inquire, “where?”. And I stammer, “We’re, ah…we’re traveling to…Egypt and Jordan”. In response I usually get a “oh, well that’s…neat”. Yes, not only are we not departing right after the marriage ceremony as tradition dictates, but we’re also not going to Hawaii, Las Vegas, or Mexico. We’re going to Northern Africa and the Middle East.

After that, they give up on the wedding conversation.

I know it’s been said before by others far more trendy than I, but, I truly am missing the bride gene. My private disdain of weddings in general is not stemming from any sort of snotty superiority complex or irrationally misplaced envy. Not at all. If someone wants to have a kick-ass, blow-out, extravagance-be-damned wedding, then more power to ‘em. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone their day in the spotlight. A commitment as huge as marriage is certainly cause for celebration. But one person’s definition of celebration is another’s person’s definition of nightmare.

I guess Daniel and I have known for a while that we would end up sharing a life together. It crept up on us slowly and quietly, unobtrusively settling around us in the most natural way imaginable. Maybe that’s why neither one of us feels the need to participate in the traditional wedding rituals. There was never any need to “pop the question”, never was there a need for him to “claim” me with a ring. We’re fairly private people (she types in her blog…) and our deep, quiet commitment reflects that.

As we were driving somewhere this weekend, it suddenly dawned on me that next week at that time we would be a married couple driving to wherever it was we would be driving to. I mentioned this to Daniel and without taking his eyes off the road or missing a beat, he softly responded with, “oh honey…I married you a long time ago”.

You see, this whole ceremony thing is just a formality to us. Doing it will afford us certain legal rights and generally simplify our life together.

Although, honestly, a part of me is ashamed to be participating in something that not every US citizen has the right to. I won’t go there (in this post), but it is an abomination that some US citizens do not have the right to marry.

Nothing more than that. We are not religious folk. We have both led full lives independent of each other. There is no one “giving” me to him. And I have no need or desire to feel like a fairytale “princess” marrying her fairytale “prince”. And while we are overjoyed to have found each other and are able to be married, in the end it’s not about the ring or the dress or the cake or the first dance or the flowers or the party favors. It’s just me. and him. doing what works best for us. Which means, No Bride.

Just Checkin In

Hey! It’s July! Holy crap-o-lah. Do you know what this means?

I’ll tell you what it means:

It means our house renovation was supposed to have been done 1 month ago.

It means July 4th is in, like, 5 minutes.

It means I’m going to be married in, like, 10 minutes.

You may have noticed my lack of house renovation reporting. Tis true. *sigh* Every week, every day…nearly every hour, we are informed, assured that it’s almost done. “We just have to….(fill in the blank)”. “As soon as we….(fill in the blank)”. When you’re told that something is going to happen over and over again and it never does, regardless of whether that something is good or bad, it seriously messes with your mental health.

Meanwhile, as we’re being mind fucked by our contractors, we are living in a constant state of clutter, filth and disorganization. Good times. The fuzz-butts are not happy about this situation either as they have to be locked up in the bedroom all day. Poor fuzz-butts.

We think they are almost done. No, for reals. I mean, it looks like they are almost done. They finally got the plumber back on-site to finish the master bathroom. He will be there today and then should be done. The master bathroom is the only major component not yet complete. But beyond that, there really isn’t much else, except for a few minor (and I mean MINOR) punch list items and then the removal-of-the-construction-crap process can begin.

Earlier this week, they finally removed all of the old disgusting carpet padding (it was being used to protect the wood floors throughout the house, but it was Nasty) and we were overjoyed to tears at that simple gesture of progress.

Okay, enough belly-aching about the house. Soon I will show you pictures post-construction. Soon. Very soon. Promise.

Not to change the subject abruptly, but have you seen Up? Ohmigod. Seriously good. I’m not a Pixar fanatic – I actually much prefer hand-drawn animation – but I wanted to see this film as soon as I saw the very first preview. And honestly, it was better than I thought it was going to be - which rarely happens. It was really fun and funny and sweet and imaginative and relevant. If you haven’t seen it, well, you should. That’s all. You just should.



So, what’re y’all doing for the 4th? Last year, Daniel and I went to Erie for a few days to celebrate, something I’ve been doing my whole life, and went to a handful of picnics/parties. The 4th of July celebrations of my youth have gone the way of my childhood Christmases. We always had great 4th of July parties at our house – playing murderball in the pool and volleyball on the grass. The older folks played horse shoes and bocce on the lawn. Everyone participated in the water balloon fights – willing or unwilling. There were sparklers and fireworks, cold sodas hunkering in coolers. The prerequisite hamburgers and hot dogs, and two big long tables full of picnic food. Lots of those elements remain the same at the various picnics hosted by friends and families. Although none of them have the element of my dad, and maybe that’s the problem.

Whew!…gettin’ a little serious there for a sec. Pay no attention to my navel-gazing drivel.

This year we’re staying here in Nashville. They have big beautiful fireworks over the river and a party at Riverfront Park. Although neither one of us really enjoys crowds, so we may skip that. Also, on our side of town they are having the Hot Chicken Festival. Hot Chicken, if you don’t know, is a Nashville thing and very nearly a religion…so we should probably check that out. It would be a sin not to, right?

Besides that, our agenda for the next 7 days revolves mainly around frantically cleaning, unpacking and organizing in preparation for the arrival of my mother and sister. That’s right. They are visiting in 7 days. And our contractors are still an intimate part of our lives. And currently there is no where for them to sleep. Or sit. Or walk really. So, we’ll see how that goes!

They are going to be our witnesses. Can I get a wit-ness!? sorry

We still need to go get our marriage license at some point. Soon. We have our rings – and we actually know where they are in the mess that is our home. And soon we will have announcements. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been working with a local artist/graphic designer to come up with a cool marriage announcement. I think we nailed it. Now, we just need to get them printed. We are scheduled to be married at 10:30 am on Friday July 10th. This is a very early hour for Bethany but she is making the sacrifice to be our witness.

Can I get a wit-ness!? again, sorry

That is all.

The Wedding - Part III

Okay, I promise this will be the final installment in the wedding series.
The reception took place at the stone pavilion about a hundred yards from the rose arbors (where the ceremony was). Very convenient for everyone. The tables were decorated with little galvanized buckets filled with cream roses and green button daisy-like flowers. The centerpieces were oil lamps ringed with hydrangeas. It was very summery and very pretty. And still very hot.

We sat or stood in the shade of the pavilion waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. They were spotted coming across the lawn when quite unexpectedly, Matt leaped into Kelly's arms and she carried him! Okay...yeah, he's a little guy…but I SO would've dropped his ass on the ground. It's sweltering hot and I'm in a very expensive wedding gown. Get OFF of me! Heh.

Since this was a Mississippi/Alabama wedding, on the menu was barbeque (with sweet tea, of course!). There was plenty of champagne and cigars. I swear, it felt like a Groucho Marx Festival with cigars hanging out of everyone's mouth. And Kelly and Matt drank from the largest champagne flutes I have ever seen in my life. I know you are at this moment imagining how large a large champagne flute really is. Hold that image…now enlarge the flute like at least a 100 times. Seriously.

They danced their dance - although I can't for the life of me remember what the hell the song was. Ah well. I was busy hanging out with Kelly's friends from architecture school, who were all very friendly and very entertaining. Her one pal, Lamoh, has threatened to harass me at my office if I don't set up a MySpace page within two weeks. He REALLY likes MySpace.

Josh and Kim arrived with a really gorgeous three-tiered wedding cake that was rapidly succumbing to the heat. Lacey and I were nominated to cut this wilting masterpiece of flour, sugar, and butter, and I must say, considering the conditions we did quite a good job.

Lots more photos were taken. Liz, who is apparently some kind of karaoke legend in Mobile, refused to sing for everyone. Corwin, the best man and Matt's cousin, gave a drunken toast in which the words, "hope this one lasts longer" and "at least this time I actually got to meet the bride before the wedding" were used. I was aghast, but since I was probably the only one not drunk, maybe no one else noticed, or remembered…

As Kelly and Matt prepared to leave for their honeymoon, we all pelted them with dried lavender flowers (MUCH better, in my opinion, than rice or birdseed or those annoying bubbles) and wished them a safe and fun trip. As they drove off, Kelly's mom stood next to me and said, "ya know what, she forgot her freakin' passport". Hee. Kelly's mom cracks me up, so I stayed and helped her clean everything up. Later, it was blissful peeling off my blue dress, kicking off my heels and sitting in my air-conditioned apartment with a bottle of complimentary champagne chilling in my fridge.

Thus the wedding is over. Matt and Kelly will return from Mexico next week (that is if they haven't been thrown into a Mexican prison - we keep waiting for the bail call at work), and if all goes well, I will never have to construct another bridesmaid's bouquet for as long as I live.

The Wedding - Part II

The wedding was to begin at 6:30. The bridesmaids were to be at the Park at 5:30 (for photos). Knowing that all the tables had to be set up, the reception pavilion decorated, the chairs arranged for the ceremony, the fabric hung on the arbor and who knows what else; I had made the somewhat sleepy offer the night before that if Kelly needed anything she shouldn't hesitate to call me.

So, I kept my phone by me in anticipation. I slept late. Went for a hike (yes, with my phone). Did my nails. Lounged by the pool. I felt almost guilty that I was having such a relaxing day. Not until 2:00 did my phone ring and Kelly's name appeared on the screen.

C: Hey you…what's up?
K: Hey, can you do me a favor?
C: Of course. Whadaya need?
K: Could you go to the office? On my desk is a blue folder and in the folder is my passport, which I will need. I would go myself but have to go get my hair done.
C: Sure thing. Not a problem!
K: Oh and could you also get some thumb tacks?
C: Thumb tacks? Sure. Do you want me to run them over to the park now or just bring them with me at 5:30?
K: You can just bring them at 5:30 along with my passport. Thanks!

I had a mission. So, as I’m getting into my car to go to the office my phone rings again.
C: Yo.
K: Could you also please pick up some napkins for the cake? Just whatever you can find at Wal- Mart or wherever. Thank you!

A few simple tasks which I completed expediently and still had plenty of time to get ready to play my part. My part as a bridesmaid included donning a strapless pool blue dress…which doesn't sound so bad, I know, I didn't think so either. However, the material was the familiar satiny, non-breathable fabric with two separate slips and a heat-trapping layer of that crinkly, poofy stuff to give the dress shape. As I zipped it up in the comfort of my air conditioned apartment and slipped on my shoes, I didn't think anything of it.

Then I stepped outside. Into the 95 degree heat. Into the 115 degree oven that was my car. And quickly realized that NOT sweating would not be an option. I imagined that is what it would feel like to be trapped inside of a kiln. Despite the inferno going on under my dress (oh get your mind out of the gutter!), I made it to the park on time (yay me!). While we were waiting to get our pictures taken, Kelly's dad, brother-in-law, and Lacey's husband were hauling chairs out of a truck and setting them up in the grass. Brad (the brother-in-law who is a mountain of a man - no, not a mountain man…he's just extremely tall and broad) bent over to lift an enormous pile of chairs and in mid-squat a look of sheer horror crossed his normally amiable face.

He slooooowly stood up and sidestepped his way over to Julie (his wife and matron-of-honor). Poor Brad. He had split his pants. Yep, a huge gaping rip. We tried very hard to stifle our mirth as he was clearly mortified. His only option was to drive back to Kelly's house (which is way out in little mexico) and change into a pair of non-air-conditioned trousers. Having less than an hour to get there and back, he quickly got directions from Kelly's dad and tore off in the truck.
Meanwhile, Kelly (in full bridal gear) arrived with Lacey (bridesmaid) and Liz (bridesmaid and Matt's sister) with the bouquets we had so carefully crafted the night before. Although the flowers themselves looked great, the cream-colored bows we had tied onto them had turned to weirdly-streaked-with-green bows. Again, none of us ever claimed to be Martha Stewart!

At approximately the same time as the discovery of the chameleon-esque bows, it was also discovered that Kelly had left her bouquet at her house. How this happened I have no idea. The bridesmaids bouquets were there, the corsages were there, the centerpieces were there, the boutonnières were there…and yet somehow the most important floral accoutrement was not there! Brad was called (who, by the way, got lost trying to get to Kelly's house) and was requested to bring the bridal bouquet.

By this time, our photo session was running a bit behind but we managed to smile at the camera at the appropriate moments and to look candidly light-hearted.

The toothless Reverend arrived in a bright purple robe. The violinists arrived. Guests began to trickle in and seat themselves. Kelly had gotten a runner to walk down the "aisle" on - a really pretty sheer white runner with little white flowers on it and her and the toothless Reverend arranged it neatly on the ground. One of the ex-girl-scout-troop-leaders arrived with armfuls of white roses which she placed on the ground in a semi-circle near the toothless Reverend. Now, I'm not sure if this was a predetermined flower arrangement or what, because it seemed very random. So, time is a-tickin' and all of these little adjustments are going on while there are guests seated on the lawn.

It was by all accounts 6:30 and time to begin but the groom and groomsmen were not to be found. The mothers of both the bride and groom were not to be found. And Brad still had not returned with Kelly's bouquet.

Finally, the rest of the bridal party was spotted on the horizon. The violinists began to…well…play their violins. The mothers and grandmothers were seated. The purple toothless Reverend shooed us bridesmaids into our places and gave us the signal to GO! We went. We walked. We smiled. We stood in a row awaiting the bride. It was fine. Although, and I'm slightly embarrassed to admit this, but do you ever have those moments where you're doing something totally normal - something you do every day like walk up the stairs - and suddenly you just kind of forget what you're doing? It's like your brain is on autopilot and then out of the blue, it stops and is like, "okay wait…what are we doing again?". I had one of those moments.

The route for the bridal party was very simple. Bridesmaids on one side of the semi-circular arbor and groomsmen on the other side. We would walk to the middle, meet up with our opposite gender partner, link arms, walk the few steps to the toothless Reverend, unlink arms and go take our places on opposite sides. Well I was fine until the part where my partner and I were to unlink and go our separate ways. I almost kept on walking (and probably would have if Charlie's arm hadn't held me back) and then my arm wouldn't unlink. Eh. It was just one of those moments where my brain forgot what was going on for a second. I think though that I recovered rather gracefully as there was no snickering and no one said anything to me afterwards.

Wow, this is an extremely long blog entry…sorry 'bout that…almost done.

The violinists, who, I should mention, were high school students (a girl from the ACE program actually and one of her friends) I guess ran out of music or something before the entire bridal party was in place…so the silence was a bit awkward. But, then the silence stretched on as the flower girl made her way down the aisle tossing rose petals and trying not to trip in the now bunched-up runner. Following directly behind her was the 3-year old ring bearer who was much more preoccupied with stomping on the rose petals than with his duties as a ring bearer.
Finally, the violinists began playing again once the flower girl and flower-stomping ring bearer were settled. They got off on the wrong key or something and had to stop and begin again, but once they got going, it was clearly the bridal march and Kelly and her dad came down the aisle (also being careful of the treacherous runner!)

Matt and Kelly's dad shook hands and Kelly unlinked arms with her father and put her arm through Matt's as they walked up to the purple toothless Reverend and turned to face each other for the vow part of the ceremony. Although I'm sure Kelly and Matt had no trouble hearing each other (which is really all that matters), I had a little difficulty hearing the speeches what with the jazz music going on at the concession stand nearby and the plane overhead. Apparently Matt's mom could hear just fine because she was weeping through nearly the entire thing (or maybe it was just allergies, I don't know).

Then it was time for the kiss and from my angle it appeared that Matt was mauling Kelly and I shifted uncomfortably on my patch of dirt and then it was time to walk again. I clung to Charlie's arm so as not to trip in the runner and then stood in the receiving line, which I was a little confused about…it wasn't something we had rehearsed and honestly I thought the only ones in the receiving line were the bride, the groom and the respective parents. Of course, I could be wrong - after all, weddings are not my thing.

On to the reception!

The Wedding - Part I

Okay I know, it's already Wednesday and I'm just now getting around to acknowledging the wedding I participated in over the past weekend. If you've ever seen the movie Meet the Fockers, you already have a pretty good idea of how things went.

Let's start with the rehearsal Friday night, shall we?

The actual rehearsal at Centennial Park went off pretty much without incident if you discount my mild shock at meeting the toothless Reverend (I say mild because this IS, after all, the South). I was also introduced to the various families and friends from Mississippi and Alabama. And was highly disappointed to discover that Kelly's infamous carny uncle hadn't made it!

Fortunately, the Nashville Parks Service has impeccable timing and had just completed installing sprinkler heads throughout Centennial Park leaving behind sizeable patches of fresh dirt which we would periodically sink into on our route. At least the sprinklers didn't actually come on during the ceremony as was the general vague concern.

Afterwards we all retreated to Kelly's house to enjoy a cookout on the Big Deck…or so we thought…

Oh where to begin…the grill blowing up? the small red-headed child strung out on Coca-Cola? the dozens of buckets filled with roses, orchids and greens waiting expectantly in the basement to be magically transformed (by elves I had initially assumed) into precious bouquets, corsages, and centerpieces?

The grand plan, in my estimation, was to grill kabobs. A fine idea. So Kelly's mom and brother-in-law began assembling the kabobs while Charlie (groomsman) decided to get the grill going. Meanwhile, Kelly was pulling seemingly random food items out of the refrigerator and putting them on the kitchen table (a tub of hummus... a platter of sushi...some kind of...potato salad...I think) and Matt was…umm…I think he was smoking cigars? I can't really remember as the very next sentence I heard was "Holy shit! Look out! The deck's on fire!". The kitchen door flew open as Charlie and Kelly's dad called for buckets of water and Dante's inferno raged outside the kitchen window.

Throughout all the chaos, there was this small red-headed child (who no one really ever claimed), who kept bouncing around, going in and out of the house (failing to close the door behind her on every occasion) demanding that random guests fetch her Cokes. I still haven't figured out if she was a rehearsal crasher because I seriously don't recall seeing her at the wedding.

The fire was extinguished amongst much panicked shouting and swearing. Fortunately, Charlie was not badly burnt. And the cause of fire was gravely determined by Kelly's dad to be some kind of flammable adhesive that had been used on the grill's propane tank. Hmm. It was at this point that Matt decided the best plan of action would be to leave his house and guests to go try to find a replacement grill at 9 o'clock in the evening. Hmm. Sometimes I think that when one becomes a bride or a groom, some kind of chemical reaction occurs which causes all former reasoning abilities to suddenly dissolve.

Kelly's mom and sister had an alternative plan of action which involved putting all of the carefully constructed kabobs on a giant baking sheet and simply cooking them in the oven. In theory this was a great plan and I fully endorsed it until the sheet full of skewered raw meat and vegetables was precariously positioned on the top of the stove and as Julie (who was crouching down to adjust the oven) stood up, she knocked the sheet which sent the food flying through the air and crashing to the floor!

Now, I am a strong proponent of the 5-Second Rule, but when there are hairy pets residing in your household, you just can't abide by that rule. So, the piles of meat and vegetables were chucked into the trash bin and Kelly's mom threw up her hands in despair and exasperation and wondered aloud if Papa John's was in order at this point. But, since neither Kelly nor Matt were to be found, I think she and Julie resigned themselves to assembling more kabobs with the leftover meat and veggies being stored in the refrigerator. I’m not exactly sure if this is what happened though because directly after the enormous crash of food to the floor, I made the decision to escape the mayhem and quietly slipped down the basement stairs.

Lo and behold! who do I find hiding amongst the buckets of flora!? Kelly and Lacey (fellow bridesmaid). I filled them in on what had been happening upstairs and we all agreed it was much nicer in the basement amid the roses. So we stayed in the basement for the next…oh…3 hours or so and assembled various flower arrangements. Eventually we were joined by other bridesmaids and two ex-girl-scout-troop-leaders - which was quite fortunate as none of us were being very Martha Stewart-y with the whole flower thing.

I think Matt returned at some point with not one…not two…but three grills. (don't ask me…I have no idea). So, sometime around 11 or 12, Kelly's dad descended into the dim den of roses offering bits of grilled meat and vegetables.

I'd like to take this opportunity to commend Kelly's mom and dad. I know they won't read this, but their tireless efforts did not go unnoticed.

I can't clearly remember when I finally emerged from the sweet-smelling basement, but by the time I did, things seemed to have calmed down considerably upstairs. Surely it was possible to maintain the new pervading sense of order and calm into Saturday's main event…right?

Weddings and stuff

Last night I was accused of being "terribly romantic"!

I'll start at the beginning. A good friend of mine got engaged Tuesday evening. Yes, this is exciting news despite the fact that she has been dating her fiancé for a mere 3 months. I know dear reader, I was concerned at first as well. But really, with the divorce rate as high as it is, I'm not convinced it matters. My friends have just as much chance of staying together as a couple who has dated for four years or a couple who has dated for two weeks or a couple who've been living together for 10 years and have children together. The point is, they are both intelligent adults and have decided to make a commitment to one another. What more does there need to be?

With this commitment, of course, comes the planning of the wedding. The picking out of the colors and the dresses and the flowers. Decisions on ceremony location and reception location and honeymoon location. Arrangements for food and alcohol and music. We know the drill. It's the fluffy occasion every little girl dreams of, right? Wrong.

Here's where the "terribly romantic" accusation comes into play. As I was talking to a friend of mine about the recent and happy engagement, our conversation turned to weddings in general. I pooh-poohed the traditional, established wedding rituals. Amusedly, my friend asked me, "okay then, miss smarty-pants, describe your wedding"

"Well, if you must know, I do not want a wedding. I want to travel to some exciting destination and get married abroad. A simple ceremony in a fantastically foreign locale, just me and my beloved, accompanied by an intimate and carefree exploration of the country and culture. Maybe someplace like Budapest or Prague. Vienna or a Greek island. The details haven't been worked out yet. And afterwards, returning home from our adventure, we would throw a casual party for friends and family to celebrate. Just a party. No wedding cake, no dancing with the bride, no tossing of the bouquet, no garters, no toasts. Just a happy couple hosting a fun gathering with maybe some strategically placed photos of our recent travels. So there."

This is when my friend gravely pronounced, "that sounds terribly romantic".

Whatever.