it's true what "they" say; it will all pass in a blur and you won't get to eat much of anything. and so the haphazardly orchestrated romantic-comedy-musical which was my kentucky wedding, became just that. i now see pictures posted on facebook that i don't even remember being taken, and i don't think i ever saw one green chili wonton appetizer, let alone got to finish the same glass of wine- which could also be related to the ceremony/reception fugue.
obviously 'the days leading up to' involved much last minute stress including whether or not to buy gin, rum and vodka at costco, or go the whole hog and get gin, rum, vodka, and bourbon for the rehearsal/reunion garden party/dinner. hands were wrung with frustration (countless rounds of hand wringing).
not to mention the 'shit-i-have-less-than-four-days-to-get-this-new-dress-altered' issue. thankfully, between much of the aforementioned alcohol and my new found fairy godmother who was working her sewing machine off in the heart of st. mathews, all was (mostly) amicably resolved.
fortunately, there was sufficient down time so that "the boys" (plus a few select spouses) were able to head down to the buffalo trace distillery, en masse, to get roasted on beverages infused in oak barrels (the other alternative being the creation museum up near cincinnati). this freed up time for the bride to engage in the usual girly things like going to make-up shops and working on (awkward) tan lines for "the dress".
finally, the BIG DAY arrived and the "staging area" was intentionally stocked with friends, fizzy alcohol and guacamole to help with last minute editing of the vows. until my brother, a perpetual victim of my noxious predilection for garlic, walked into a room reeking of onions and promptly left in disgust.
despite stringent efforts to avoid anything girly, i committed my own personal emotional foul; leaking- which is not the same as "crying". shortly after mooning my frilly pink knickers to a former co-worker, i saw another office mate who had flown in from new mexico the night before. wow...people...had...taken...time...and...money...to...make...the...effort...to...
to...face...time...they...came...anyway. this very thing was part of the whole 'courthouse versus wedding' decision. because people will always find a way to make it to a wedding (or funeral)- as long as there is "open bar" written on the invitation. and as such, we both got to see familiar faces from 12-15 years ago. so, while i did win the 'less expensive outfit' contest, he cleaned house on the 'who's going to cry first' challenge.
and all of those little things that i fixated on, in an effort to try and make things less "weddingy", ergo "boring" and cliche worked, eliciting the appropriate and therefore self-gratifying responses; an ebullient officiant (and former mattress store manager); invitations showcasing two sets of big glasses and a ramen noodle perm; europe's "final countdown" on sax as i was escorted down the aisle by both mum and dad, and the fun luggage tag favours- triggering hoarding behaviour amongst some attendees.
then there were the saucy cocktail napkins, sign in jigsaw puzzle depicting the marital black toenail cutting, a first dance to "ring of fire", and of course cake. the only criteria being that it had to either cramp up the ovaries upon visual contact (not gender specific), or result in a full on face plant.
finally, i have been astounded by all of the talented and creative people who made things happen. and while there was no 'bridal party' there were many worthy of a baby blue taffeta number with bows and puffed sleeves.
(photography courtesy of burt reynolds).