For “The Wedding Part 1,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 2,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 4,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 5,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 6,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 7,” click here.
I had grand plans of posting “The Wedding, Part 3: Decorating and Rehearsal Dinner”. It was in my days of great naivete, before I realized that would entail a 90-picture post. And 90 pictures in 1 post is just plain immoral. Unwieldly. Inappropriate.
Therefore, this morning I am bringing you only “The Wedding, Part 3: Decorating Drama.” The rehearsal is getting its own space and going up tomorrow instead; please register any complaints with Erica and Dave for being so ridiculously good-looking. If they had looked a little more hideous, maybe I would have taken less pictures in the first place.
So for today, it’s pictures of the extensive preparations. Both families pitched in so graciously to make everything come together. Aunt Jessie gets accolades, as usual, for being the mastermind behind the madness. Here she is in the background managing a regiment of silver candelabras:
Wendy, Erica’s new mother-in-law, was looking lovely . . . though I think I overdid it on the “green” in my color balance–sorry Wendy. I hope you’ll give me a second chance.
There is a lesson to be learned: don’t mess up your white balance or everyone will need immediate psychological help.
The large camera around my neck enabled me to free-flow through the preparations snapping pictures without doing any actual work. That’s the true reason I purchased the camera–to avoid laboring away at family shindigs. A few hundred bucks in equipment versus years of back-breaking toil? The choice was clear. In fact, this whole blog is a cover-up justifying my role as the family photographer so that I can continue my work-free policy in the years to come. (Sidenote: this is my life policy #2, #1 being the blackmail-free policy discussed in yesterday’s shocking post)
I mean, seriously, why else would I be blogging? It’s better than Erica’s erstwhile “I have to go the bathroom” cover-up act that she would pull when we were young ‘uns as soon as we all had to unload the dishwasher–she used that one for decades. OK, from about age 6 to age 10. Thankfully, as the oldest sister in residence at the time, I whipped her into shape and now she’s a hard-workin’ wife who made Molten Chocolate Cakes and Pastor Ryan’s Pasta Carbonara for her new husband just last week. But Dave, be warned, if it’s ever time to do the dishes and Erica’s like “honey, I have to run to the bathroom,” you have her number.
My husband and Mike, the dutiful brothers-in-law of the bride, worked their butts off. Laurels were placed on their heads to honor them.
Heidi, Jen and I felt like we were cheating since our job involved sitting down and making all the place cards.
It was veeeeeery relaxing. Jen was a whiz with the scissors.
It all started off fun and games. I mean, how hard could it be to write some peoples’ names on some paper? I learned how to write names in kindergarten. Here I am, looking very self-assured with my little gathering of pens.
Oh, thou who is self-assured and over-confident! Hear ye, hear ye, you may be about to experience your greatest downfall! [Insert biblical saying with something about man, trouble, and the sparks flying upward!]
I was so upset by my own lack of calligraphy skills that I considered simply destroying the evidence.
However, that would have resulted in armies of confused guests hopelessly milling around. It’s a lesson I learned long ago: don’t mess with unassigned seating. Mass chaos = stampede alert. And nobody wants to risk a stampede when a bride donning an expensive white dress is involved. I don’t know if the dry-cleaning could get out those shoe marks.
Heidi’s calligraphy was just beautiful. She was also looking particularly beautiful. There may be a correlation.
Maybe I could get some funding and do a research study to prove that beautiful pregnant women named “Heidi” have an uncanny talent in the hand-writing area for making gorgeous loopy swirls and uniformly sized letters. That would also explain why I failed–my name isn’t Heidi and I’m not pregnant. See? Nothing is my fault.
There were some old, cold fries on the table right next to us. I’m sad to report that I was drawn to them like a magnet. They just looked so good that I managed to forget how bad they tasted, time after time, fry after fry. Please understand that failing at calligraphy was seriously distorting my judgment in these matters.
Kelsey artfully arranged piles of tulle on the cake table.
She also outdid herself by hiding a chocolate under each of the coffee cups at the head table.
Meanwhile, the boys worked on heavy lifting in the chapel. . .
. . . and messed with all things electronic.
Andrew made himself useful by untangling a mess of lights. I exulted because I had caught him in a full smile.
Priority #1 was making it to the hotel hot tub before it closed at 10pm. This necessitated an emergency run to WalMart and Kohl’s to purchase bathing suits for some bathing suitless bridesmaids. My weary body was just screaming for a hot tub. We met with great success: everyone was decently clothed for the pool time later that night. Thank you WalMart and Kohl’s for enabling a decent get-together free of rampant nudity.
I love that phrase–“rampant nudity.” I’ll try to work it into all my future posts.
While we were gone, much progress was made in the reception hall. We rejoiced that little worker elves had shown up and worked their magic in our absence. The head table was looking good.
We all got dressed for the rehearsal dinner. Getting ready for an event with other girls is always such fun! The make-up sharing, the giggles, the help with your unruly hair . . . Heidi worked on taming my frizz with Jen’s hair straightener.
It was time to make everyone pose by the ladder. Mom dutifully settled in, looking sweet . . .
. . . but Heidi was disturbingly resistant, and decided to look like an alien instead. A cute, pregnant alien with dancer legs.
We had some time to kill, and there were all these fake flowers hanging ’round just screaming “props.”
It all started with some lovely shots, very proper etc.
But soon deeply ingrained genetic patterns for which we cannot be held accountable caused us to start posing in wilder and wilder configurations.
Bet you didn’t know I could look so frightening, eh? Well get a load of this:
I personally have chosen to hold the Maid of Honor responsible. She’s in charge of the ‘honor’ part, and yet our anything-but-honorable conduct gained no reprimand from her. She even posed with us. What a little instigator.
Rowenna settled into a tiny blue armchair to observe the proceedings from a safe distance. She chose wisely. I would like to take this moment to draw your attention to the stain on the chair to her right. The clues of history tell us that some child must have suffered from bladder control on that very spot.
And then, it was time for the Rehearsal to begin. See you tomorrow for the full account!