It was perfect. We had the best time.
Aren’t those silly things to say? All weddings are perfect, like babies, I should imagine, at least to the bride, and that’s what matters. But I did hear one gal say that it was the most fun wedding she’d ever been to, and she’d been married twice herself.
We’re in Vancouver, and we have another wedding tonight (will that make Lala my second wife?), so I won’t spend too much time online, but I wanted to say hello. Really, this is a thank you to my family and friends, who made it the best time ever. I worked really hard up to the point of the wedding. I’d been running around all day, every off day I had, buying beer and wines and plates and cups and more Cadbury Creme Eggs than could be imagined, but the day itself wasn’t like that.
In fact, the day before wasn’t like that, either. The breakfast was great, and the hot tub/massage combo was a hit. We sat around, not stressed out. Just happy. I was a little worried that I wasn’t stressed out — I must have forgotten something — but Lala wouldn’t let me worry much.
That night we had the rehearsal dinner. It went like this: My sisters brought Zachary’s pizza over and the families met each other and ate pizza off of paper plates in our new house (we were SO proud). We rehearsed like this — Hey, Jodi (our wonderful officiant who even got the online reverend certificate, even though she didn’t really NEED it), stand up at the end of that first song, okay? We’ll walk down on the second song. Cool! More pizza. (It was literally after these few words that Lala’s mom asked "IS there a rehearsal tonight?" and Lala said, "That was it! Done!")
The dads talked Kingston Trio and the moms had a cute-off on the couch. No one knows who won, because we were too busy being happy they were so cute. Then they left and we crashed, with little to no cleanup.
The day of the wedding dawned. I was only nervous whenever I was alone, which wasn’t that often. Otherwise, I was fine. We went to the hall, out in the redwoods, to decorate at about three pm.
Christine met us there. Let me now add an ode to Christine. (She has pics! Go look and come back…..) She’s been an online friend for a long time, and I’ve met her several times at knit-outs. She’s a florist and offered to help me with my flowers. Lala, because she’s done this before and knows a lot, recommended that we get a wedding handler for the night. Not a planner, really, but someone to steer the wedding around. I asked her if she’d do that for us. She agreed, to my joy.
Then we bought the house, and we ran out of money, and I almost took it back. We were cutting everything — no catered food, no photographer, how could we justify a wrangler?
Then Christine offered to do it for a ridiculously low sum, probably barely covered her gas from Napa, because she’s the best. Then not only was she there, but she smiled the whole time, she brought her daughter Hannah who was maybe my favorite kid ever, and she made the wedding run like, well, like a wedding. She had all those things with her that I hadn’t considered: Beer tubs. Who thinks of beer tubs? Lighters. Nope, I hadn’t thought of those. She brought the glass bowls in which we floated a zillion floating candles I’d bought at Ikea. She brought a little of EVERYTHING, down to and including extra wine. I mean, really.
She worked tirelessly shepherding people and it is truly because of her that we had such a wonderful time. Really. Our families and friends pitched in and did what we and she asked them to do, but it was Christine who knew what was going on the whole time. So, thank you, dear.
Also, special shouts to sisters Christy and Bethany, who came through in SUCH a big way, cooking, building the fire, stocking the fireplace with s’more material (roasted Peeps s’mores make any wedding fun, I’m telling you. Lotsa people said they’d never roasted Peeps in evening wear before). They did EVERYTHING for us, happily, with smiles, appearing to enjoy themselves. Also, they looked GREAT in their wedding duds, dude. And you know how families fight at stressful life events? None of that. That’s because they were COOL, ’cause I was certainly a basket case right before the ceremony.
And Jodi and Kris, whom I’ve dubbed the helpiest helpers ever. They’re the kind of friends who say they’ll help you paint and then they bring you cake AND paint. You know? (Damn, I still have their cake pan. Must give that back soon.) Lala met Jodi and Kris through her late wife, Aura. Jodi and Aura were best friends. Jodi loves who Lala loves, because she’s like that, and she loves me for me, too. So to have Jodi marry us, to read the ceremony for us, was more special to us than we can say. I actually WON’T say any more, because it’s impossible to describe, but to have her there, to have her wife Kris beaming out at us while we were up there, in that gorgeous Kris way, that was something, all right. (Jodi sent us a text message the next day saying she had a verklemptover. Yeah, me too.)
So back to what I was saying before I started thanking people, we decorated. We strung white lights EVERYWHERE in the big ole redwood room, and set out tablecloths (which Christine brought, of course), and set out CCEggs, and watched Christine set up the bar with nothing more than a blink and two taps of her heels. We split at about five pm, and I started getting ready at home.
Now, I thought two hours would be enough time to get ready for a wedding. I can be out of the house in twenty minutes, usually, and that’s with a shower, coffee, and makeup. Two hours? Nope, just barely made it. By the time my mother and sisters came over, at about five-thirty, I had my hands tangled in my hair and I was shaking all over. Trying to stick bobby pins into thirties hair curls with shaking hands doesn’t work, I’ll have you know. Christy fetched me a drink immediately, bless her. Then they let me get all type A and refuse all offers of help (except for Marama, who did my makeup INCLUDING sticking on my false eyelashes, which my shaking fingers never would have let me do).
It was time to go! I zipped into the dress, the little mama and sisters helping, a very nice memory, put on my veil by myself in the bathroom, ordered people to grab all my luggage, not a very nice memory, but they were nice to my freaked-out self anyway, and got in the car. Yes, it felt as rushed as that sentence.
Driving there was nice, though. Going to meet the person who is the most perfect for me, knowing she was there waiting, that was the best.
When I got there, the family went in, and Christine set Lala and I up on the outsides of the building, away from each other. Lala still hadn’t seen my dress. The music started (Iron and Wine, Such Great Heights). I could hear it, and I knew she could hear it, and I almost fell over. There were big muddy puddles, though, so I didn’t. The second song began, Vasen’s Bridalmarch, and I knew Lala was walking down toward Jodi. Then it was my turn. Hot DAMN, there were a lot of people there. All looking at me. And then my veil got caught on the way down, so I kinda got stuck for a minute, but I seriously almost didn’t remember it later. Then I was there, and Jodi was talking, and I was CRYING, something I totally swore to Lala that I knew I wouldn’t do. I was wrong.
It was the best. Lala looked like Johnny Cash. We got married. The kissing was the best part.
Then, then, then. There were a lot of people to hug and kiss. That’s pretty much what I did for the rest of the night. I didn’t eat, although nice people kept trying to make me. I had one piece of sushi, one chicken wing, part of a levant roll, the bite of wedding cake that Lala fed me, and two bites of Mom’s fruitcake that she made for the groom’s cake. I didn’t even really drink! –I had about six beers, and only about three sips of each before I’d put it down and hug someone else and lose it.
Aside: At the bank the day before, the gal at the counter said she’d had about 450 guests, and only liked ten or twenty of them. At our wedding, we had about 130 people, and we loved them all. That’s way better.
(Lala’s still asleep! I’m still typing! I’ll type till she wakes up….)
The band, The Shut-Ins, were the BIGGEST hit. People loved them. Even more importantly, WE loved them, and Lala and I danced. Before I met her, she didn’t dance. She told me once that she’d probably never dance with me, that she preferred to be IN the band, not in front of it. Welp, she dances with me whenever I ask now, and that night she even came to get me a couple of times. It’s just fun to dance with her. We just mess around and spin and laugh.
Man, how do you recap the best party ever? What else do I remember? The dads giving toasts. The moms, all sweet and beautiful and proud and happy. Lots of really, really attractive people. Forgetting to bring cash for the bartender friend and having to hit up my father-in-law for money (boy, was he sweet about that).
Lots of knitters, yay! Knitters from far away: JStrizzy from Maryland, Anne from Colorado, and Ryan and TMK from Seattle.
Yes, you read that right. Friends, we had The Mysterious K at our party. Dude. Now, THAT’S a party, that’s all I can say.
I danced with my godson while the Whoreshoes did a little do-wop with the band. Oh, and the coolest thing: Christy’s band, Deadpan Alley, comprised of herself on bass and friend Becky on guitar, did a song just for us, as a surprise. It was so frikken cool and unexpected and GREAT.
Wrapping up, because I should and this is long enough, and I have to track down some wifi to post it and I still have a lot of things to do today like getting married again, I’ll end with the end: The sisters got us a hotel room at the Phoenix in the City. Boy, are we glad they did. It meant we didn’t go home, where the temptation to check email and do the dishes would have been too great. The hotel was just right. Thanks, you two.
The next morning, yesterday: Lala was a bit hungover. That was rough on her, but I was pretty okay. We took a shuttle which KEPT STOPPING to pick people up, something we hadn’t budgeted for, timewise. Then we came within minutes of missing our plane, because of screw-ups that I kept making. First I got us to the wrong terminal, thinking we were on Air Canada and not United. That meant a fast walk for MILES. Then we waited at the outside check-in. Nope, can’t do that, since it’s international. Then inside, at the self-check. First, we got in the WRONG self-check, then by the time we got in the right one, and finally made it to the top of the queue, we were 43 minutes before the flight left, and check-in ends 45 minutes before, and they’re not kidding. Called on the phone, they said that we missed the flight and that we’d have to take the next night flight, ten hours later. That’s when I cried, but only for a minute.
Waited in yet another line to confirm our tickets for that night — at least we could check in or something and then go hang out in the City because I would have been SO disappointed to go home after all that. But I managed to talk the rudest airline clerk in the WORLD into helping me — she checked us in on the original flight and took our bags to the tune of specific and shocking abuse, which I cheerfully took. She was doing us a huge favor.
But now we’re here, at the Sylvia, on the beach, on the very top floor, in a corner room, so we literally lie in bed and look right out at English Bay all around us. And it’s perfect. Even the weather is nice, and I find it funny that we had to come to Vancouver to escape the rain.
Man, my wife’s still asleep! Heh. My wife. Hee hee. I love that.
So, anyway. With this exception, I really won’t be online much again for two weeks. Please don’t mind, and if I should call you, I’m sorry if I don’t — my phone shows Roaming up here, and I’m not sure what that will mean to my cell phone bill. But I AM on honeymoon, and that means we’re supposed to just disappear and be together. So we will. Family, friends, thank you. We love you. Readers: Ditto.
(I only took pics late in the night, and there’s a lot of redeye, but here are a few…. I love Christine’s shot up top the best.)
The cutest moms ever.
More kissing! (I finally, finally remembered my shawl, at the end of the evening….)
Dad! We had a great, if fast, waltz.
La’s family (now mine!)
You can see a little of the dress….. I have so few pics, and none of myself full-length, sorry…..
Us on the plane. That’s the lipstick from the night before. Again MAC rules.
Get a Free Short Story!
Subscribe to get a free copy of Socks for Alex, a Cypress Hollow Short Story, compatible with all devices!