Here's how it went down, challenging me to fully utilize almost every emotion in my impressive range.
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For a wedding to come together in a week -- technically ten days -- there first must exist a reason for such a life-changing life event to happen within that time span. I've already established that reason in an entry dated the end of March. Please refer there for any background info: http://pushups-gsv.blogspot.com/2012/03/wedding-cake-and-potato-salad.html
The last time I was involved in a wedding before Sarah's.
Don't ask.
Read the blog entry: http://gsvccbg.blogspot.com/2010/08/renewing-my-commitment-to-no_03.html
Next, a mother must gently pose the question to her eager-to-be-married-by-the-JOP-and-be-done-with-it daughter that there are probably a few kinfolk and friends who'd like to share in the special moment, what with the timing, and the big move overseas, and parents in need of a transition as opposed to an abrupt shift. That daughter must then acquiesce, "Fine. We'll have a small wedding as long as I don't have to plan it and get any more stressed than I am."
Kinfolk . . .
And then the fun and fireworks begin! A big heaping helping of stress for TWO, please?
Cheers! Mom will take two of these, please?!
Searching the clearance rack.
The first of the three choices.
Or course, we all like it!
Enjoying the fun of this outing!
What do we think of THIS, ladies?
Getting closer, to Sarah's way of thinking.
I'm not so certain.
Still thinking of the first one's elegance.
Let's change up the hair.
And add a veil . . .
Two dresses in one . . .
Not bad. Not bad at all.
But what have we here?!
Could this be THE one?!
Reminds me of a certain senior prom dress . . .
Oh, yeah-h-h . . .
There's a certain twinkle in her eye . . .
Add the petticoat . . .
And the veil-l-l . . .
And RING-G-G that bell: they've made a sale!
That there is how truly happy brides look.
My long-lost pal from childhood (blog entry: http://gsvccbg.blogspot.com/2010/08/amy-alaska.html), Amy Alaska, stood in as my wingman for the stressful wardrobe selection I would need to play my vital role to the hilt. She was fearless: expertly whipping shantung silk and sequin confections from way too anatomically correct mannequins for my size 8 needs; following me up and down shoe aisle after shoe aisle, fitting one strappy heel after another on first my left and then my right foot, as I engaged in a 40-minute long animated conversation with my soon-to-be son-in-law's excited mother, unable to stand still longer than 15 seconds at a time. I know beyond any and all reasonable doubt that Amy is the reason I looked so put together when my daughter smiled up at her Big Red and said, "I do."
Too severe.
Too lumpy.
Very pretty.
Understated. Tasteful. Elegant.
THIS is gonna work out fine.
(See the navy bridesmaid gown on the wall?)
Our fearless dress snatcher!
The very toned mannequinette.
In the end, strappy sandals didn't make the cut.
Two good men awaiting the big moment.
Rodney -- the cherry atop the already fabulous Sundae!
Now, before I go any further, might I suggest an apt comparison? The conducting of this wedding was somewhat akin to an Amish barn-raising in that a close community of supporters came together to make it all happen in quick time with beautiful results with rather minimal cost. Like the menu. Whether people attended or not, they donated food -- and I don't mean store-bought potato salad and deli-sandwiches. One of my very good gal pals who lives several towns away told me, "I've got a few of those chafing dishes. I can make a chicken and mushroom dish. And a couple of others." She and her husband arrived with gourmet-quality home-cooked Italian food in restaurant-style chafing dishes far bigger than bread baskets! They set them up, Sterno ablaze, like true caterers. The array and selection was staggering: chicken-salad croissant sandwiches with grapes and walnuts; Southern-style macaroni-and-cheese; fruit and veggie platters, shrimp cocktail; my mom's famous potato salad; roasted vegetables, seasoned with an expert hand by one of my Earth Divas and a whole host of mouth-watering delectables I can't recall because I was too busy flitting about to nosh until way after the party was over. To this upscale potluck we contributed 100 smoked wings from The Slick Pig local BBQ haunt: a favorite of the young couple. (If ever you visit, we'll treat you to a baker's dozen!)
Besides the uber-moist white chocolate sheet cake with delectable buttercream frosting, combining dainty periwinkle and pearl flowers on top with the new digital army camo pattern on the sides with the confectionery artistry that only Jo of Jo's Custom Cakes could command (did I mention the three old-timey fondant postcards with well-wishes in Latvian, German and English arranged betwixt the flowers?), dessert also manifested as a homemade strawberry cheesecake groom's cake, gaily ornamented cupcakes for the child guests and a sweet brigade of other choices, samples of which I faintly recall tucking into my grumbly tumbly at one point. (*Note here: Derek's family is Latvian on his mother's side; his grandmother spoke the language to all of her grandchildren to ensure it didn't die out with their generation.)
I think the Latvian postcard was eaten by a kid?
The beauty of simple detail.
Go, Army!!!
Though my history of party organizing stands up to close scrutiny, this shindig needed a director to keep all the elements moving forward. This was readily apparent after a couple of days. At about this time, Melissa Clark of aforementioned Earth Diva acclaim, stepped into the gap with her simple offer to be my wedding planner. After a 4-hour (or was it 6-hour) planning session on a Wednesday, we were off and running with a timeline for everything from tablecloths and cutlery to vases and flowers. Her firm taskmaster ways were a balm to my amped-up soul. Again, many of the necessary items were contributed, either on loan or permanently, from members of my church, friends, neighbors, ladies in the Bunco group! Because of an early outbreak of extra-warm spring weather, a host of blooming trees in my yard and along local roads had breakout roles in the decor department. In the high-octane hours before the wedding, whilst my husband ironed extra-large tablecloths and my son and the groomsmen mopped and set-up chairs, Melissa sat in a zen-like state on the sanctuary floor at Church at Cross Point, surrounded by colorful flowers and bright greenery, arranging magazine-quality bouquets. When I asked from whence such talent came, her reply was both amusing and oh, so modern, "I watched a YouTube video on how to make wedding floral arrangements." Trust me when I say she definitely has a wealth of hidden talents because I've watched online how-to videos and still had issues just tying a respectable Windsor knot for my husband.
Click here to brush up on Earth Divas: http://gsvccbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-havent-been-called-one-in-person-but.html
Melissa demonstrating how a long bouquet would sit . . .
Versus a short full bouquet.
We're going with the red onion!
That friendly determined look . . . and The Notebook of Lists.
Melissa on fire!
My cleaning crew: the best man, the brother, my son.
Tree blossom art.
See the bridal bouquet behind the table arrangements?
The official photos have better shots.
I don't have those available.
MY Ironman!
Last-minute reinforcements!
Pretty-as-posey toes.
With a bonafide make-up artist taking care of Sarah, and three talented photographers capturing the beginning, middle and end, volunteer staff for the drink counter and kitchen, one of our church men on top of playing the music at just the right interludes, not an element remained unaccounted for. (Ah, the music! Music for which I spent countless post-midnight hours requesting, uploading, downloading, purchasing from iTunes, and setting in order on three CD's to match the three stages of the evening; two nights before the wedding, one song in particular reduced me to tears so unrelenting that all I could do was cling to my husband as wave after crashing wave of memories and realization and extreme fatigue washed over me for what seemed a bittersweet eternity.)
Ashley posing with Sarah's personal beauty advisor, Jacqueline.
Claire stopped in briefly.
She was headed for the Navy before the wedding.
The men stopped in briefly, too.
They were headed as far from this party as they could get!
The bride and her maid of honor.
One of the nice triangular cakes.
Our merry lady revelers.
I thought I'd found a nice green nose ring.
Alas, it wasn't quite what I was looking for.
I failed to mention our mani-pedi date!
Dragon lady.
A bit of practice.
Sweet . . .
A hungry wedding party.
Melissa conducting.
LOVE IT!
Ready to be served their red meat!
On the big day, with the bride and groom entering the premises to retire to their dressing rooms, the men in one of the smaller classrooms on the south side of the building, the bride and her entourage taking up the enormous back room on the north side, my husband and I scurried home after hours of creating the perfect set, the backdrop for the start of the rest of their lives. We had two hours to get back to our house, shower and change wardrobe, and return to the church. My only regret of the entire process happened in those two hours: I missed the outdoor photo session that had to occur before the wedding to take advantage of the light. I missed Derek's face when he first saw Sarah emerge from the church, out into the late afternoon sun, aglow in her white gown and periwinkle gown, her Army bracelet yet on her wrist -- EKMANIS, his uniform name patch -- the sheer excitement apparent to any looking on. Young love. True love. All that sweet sappy stuff of which romantic dreams are made! His mother arrived in time to enjoy the moment. I'm glad for that, though I envy her just a tad bit; I'm human, NOT superhuman. Because she worked full-time and lived in Nashville, she was unable to be involved in the preparations, and being a witness to the picture-taking was her entrance into the hubbub.
The dress blues have arrived!
Pressing their clothes now, instead of table cloths.
Paparazzi . . .
One of my favorite moments.
The big reveal at the photo shoot.
Oh, yeah. I thought my dog was going to die. I had to choose my daughter's wedding over a trip to an emergency vet clinic. It seems a no-brainer but it was heart-wrenching all the same. Just as we were about to rush out the door, with only minutes to spare, my make-up bag in hand, Hank dropped to the kitchen floor, writhing in apparent agony, moaning and whining, his belly as bloated as a 2-day beached whale. On his thin frame, it really stood out. I'd made a hasty decision earlier in the day to allow my son to buy Hank a large rawhide bone to keep him occupied as he'd been denied his regular attention and it was showing in all the hyperactive Lab ways. Only, my dog doesn't eat rawhide on the advice of our strong-willed vet. Derek mentioned in passing a how he'd witnessed the carnage wreaked on that bone. I called 3 vet offices; 3 vet offices had just closed. Not a one had ears for my thorny situation. There was no one around to help: they were all AT THE WEDDING! With me in tears and close to desperation, torn by the crappy choices at my well-clad feet, Jimmy put Hankie Mutt in the backyard with a full pan of water and we headed across town.
We all know that Hank the Wonder Pup survived his ordeal. And the rest of the evening went off with nary a hitch. My handsome son, the usher for grandmothers and moms, took honors as the first family member to outright bawl during the ceremony. Before his dad even handed Sarah off to Derek, my boy was accepting a tissue from his Grandma Sharon for the wet trails running down his face. THAT got me going! The rest catapulted along with breakneck speed. A blur of sights and sounds. Glimpses of Derek's red hair and ruddy complexion against the crisp collar of his uniform as his buddies crowded him for man talk. Sarah's cascade of dark curls and wide dark-chocolate eyes turning from one smiling face to another. And then it seemed they were gone so quickly. Honking and grinning as they sped away in the Xterra for the only two nights they would have alone as husband and wife before he left for Germany within the week.
The boy about to gain a brother.
Escorting Derek's mother to her seat.
The hitching post . . .
Enjoying a bit o' wedding cake.
It took a village to marry my daughter. I'm not kidding. Aside from the momentous occasion itself, the impact of so many caring people coming together so quickly and earnestly for our family, for our daughter, for Derek, touched me very deeply. I believe it also provided a wonderful example to our newlyweds of what people should be to one another in life. We raised a spectacular barn! And two weeks from now, give or take a day, Sarah will finally join her husband. That's a full 3 months after their wedding folks. She needs to go before someone here dies . . . or seriously injured enough to cause us to meet our health insurance for a second year. Me. Her brother. Her. HANK! Young lovers kept apart for that long, at such distance, so early on: a bit taxing on the nerves, to say the very least. I'm ecstatic for them. Eager to witness the ways in which they will learn to wheel and deal with the challenges about to come at them.
New brothers saying goodbye.
Sarah, I don't think Derek would ever think of ending Hank's life!
Our newlyweds the day after.
Snuggling.
And most likely, Jimmy will again have to comfort me when the next tsunami of tears tumbles across the shores of this mother's heart. Sarah jokingly informed me the other night that I'd better not cry and carry on at the airport when we said our goodbyes. "Ohh, whatever!" I snorted in jest, "I'm not gonna cry one bit." Rolling her eyes, my daughter challenged me, "Let's bet." She put out her hand, which still looks for all the world like the hand of a little girl. I accepted it, grinning just a bit. "So-o, if you cry, mom, what happens? What's our bet?" I only thought for the briefest of heartbeats before replying, "IF I cry, then-n-n . . . YOU have to stay here!"
Pretty clever, eh?
But not realistic.
If you raise 'em up right, they're gonna fly. I just didn't know it would be all the way to the motherland. (My maiden name: Sweigard.) Watch out, Pig Keepers, 'cause here I come!
My son-in-law's view of France as his plane flew overhead.
One day soon, I hope to enjoy this view, too.
