Use Your Eyes: Wedding Pics!

Professional pics are in.  I will let them speak for themselves.

 

All photos by and appropriate rights to Brian Drouin Photography.  These and other photos available at Pictage (login required).

Once In A Lifetime

Since the wedding I've been putting off writing down how everything felt, with the exception of a few memories jotted down the night of.  I'm deeply happy with how everything turned out, though I wish the night had been about four days longer.  (We actually meant to make it a bit longer, but accidentally put a slightly later time on the invites than we meant to.  Ah, well.)  Looking back on the night, I keep thinking in superlatives: everything looked beautiful, everyone was helpful, everybody danced, the food was amazing, the clothes were gorgeous, the weather was perfect . . . but I really kind of believe all of those desciptors.  It's kind of nuts how well things went. 

Paradoxically, this has made it incredibly easy for me, the eternal regretter, to hone in on the few things that did not go 100% perfectly.  I'm not going to talk about them here because they're seriously minor, and I've learned already that bringing them up only keeps them alive.  But I'm working on letting go, and the more time and distance I have, the littler and sillier they seem.  I'm sure that in time they will fade completely, and the big-picture gorgeousness and love of the day will wholly overwhelm any lingering doubts.  Without further ado . . .

Fond Memories:

- The heavy moment right before the processional started.  Though surrounded by loved ones, E, birds and boxwoods, I felt shaky and overwhelmed.  Closest I came to crying the whole day.

- Walking down the aisle not to a sea of faces, but a sea of cameras.

- Our beautiful, awesome, amazing, gorgeous, perfect wedding party.

Don't they look beautiful?  Everyone chose their own outfits.

- Listening to my good friend read the same passage for us that I had read at his civil ceremony & watching him try not to cry.

- Having a brief moment alone with my brand new husband and a bottle of rosé.

- E bustling my dress after the ceremony, since he was the only one who I had shown how to do so.  (Thanks to Sarah for the beautiful bustle!)

- Giving a small impromptu speech when E and I rejoined the guests for cocktails.  I realized that on the walk over I had been looking for four-leafed clovers, as I frequently do, and then thought to myself: "Look all around you, and look next to you.  What more luck could you need?"

- Joking through our first dance, to "The Book of Love" by The Magnetic Fields.

- The positive SWARM onto the dance floor when "Twist and Shout" came on after the first dance.  And how everyone stayed up and dancing through the next 10 or so Motown classics before starting to take breaks.

- Dancing with EVERYONE to Like A Prayer.  That song is my jam forever and always.

- Getting in the middle of a delish slow-dance sandwich with two lovely ladies as Pete Townshend crooned "Let My Love Open the Door" (the E. Cola Mix).

- ICE CREAM SANDWICHES and PIE.  Served on DRY FREAKING ICE.

- Fabulous jerk chicken and spanakopita and mac 'n' cheese and so much more.  Though it was hard to eat at all - I swore I'd be the bride who broke the "forgot to eat" curse but my body was NOT having it.   Thankfully it was also hard to drink (kept leaving my beer bottle places, to go dance), so I did not disgrace myself.

- Good friends' beautiful, heartfelt toasts.

- Our amazing impromptu centerpieces.  We had planned the mason jars with battery-powered twinkle lights inside, and stolen the idea for tiny plant favors (thanks Mike & Meri!) but it was my overbuying of flowers and the last-minute arranging powers of E's mom and some dedicated wedding party members that really made the centerpieces truly awesome.  At the end of the night, nearly every single jar (lights, flowers and all) went home with a guest - so I guess they liked them!

- SO MANY HUGS.  All night long.  Non-stop hugs.

- The amazing way that everyone - and especially our immediate family and the wedding party - pitched in.  In the frantic hour and a half before things really got going, everyone was constantly on the move, hanging things and arranging things and collaborating and communicating and working miracles with (leopard print) duct tape.  We could NOT have been luckier, and we do NOT for a SECOND take for granted the effort they put in.  Thanks so much, everyone!

There's so much more.  I can't even start.  DIY photobooth pictures are up on Evan's Flickr (look out for the human pyramid!)  Professional photos should be coming soon.  Gratitude and joyful memories know no bounds.

Note: We don't have professional photos back yet, so these photos are all courtesy of my dad, my fabulous friend Carla and my cousins Laura and Stacy.  Thank you!

1 month and counting

I’m feeling pretty out-of-sorts today. I attribute this to 1) planning fatigue and 2) stomach trouble (which may themselves be related). We have a lot to do in the next month, and all I can think about - when I’m not mentally making lists - is whether the caterer will mess up the curry chicken, and how much of a mess the apartment is right now. Fortunately, I have nothing to do tomorrow night so a thorough cleaning is in order. The curry chicken will just have to take care of itself.

Today seems as good a time as any to remind myself of why we’re having this big stupid party to begin with. A little over a year ago, on a Sunday near the beginning of May, E and I woke up late to sun streaming through the windows. We stayed in bed for a while, enjoying the morning and each other’s company, and then threw on some clothes and went for a walk to the National Cathedral. I’m always up for a walk (last weekend I made E walk home to Dupont from Friendship Heights, on a whim) but I didn’t realize that this particular walk was part of a larger plan.

We chatted and strolled, getting sunburnt and looking for 4-leaf clovers along the way. When we got there, we made a beeline for the garden - I love the good-smelling roses there, and it’s a nice place for quiet contemplation among the buzzing insects. E sat down on a bench, and I flitted about taking pictures of flowers and smelling things. Eventually he coaxed me onto the bench, and I noticed his hands trembling slightly as I sat down. He turned to me and started a short speech. Neither of us remember the exact words, but he talked about how we are a good team, and how we balance each other, and how he’s happy when he’s with me. And then he asked: “Would you maybe want to marry me?”

MAYBE.

I GUESS.

I should say at this point that, while I expected that we’d probably get married eventually, I wasn’t really in any hurry. I'm not really the like-it-put-a-ring-on-it type, (though I do dearly love that song). E and I had been living together for nearly a year, and dating for three and a half years (minus an ill-advised but very necessary two-week blip). I figured if nothing changed in another couple of years I’d just do the proposing myself, but it was all very theoretical. So I was genuinely surprised, but happily so, and happily said “Yes” immediately.

JUST KIDDING.

First I said, “Really? Reeeeallly???” Then I said “You know I’m kind of crazy, right?” Then I tried to crawl into his lap, in the middle of the public garden. Then, after (I believe) some prompting from E, I said, “Well, yes, OBVIOUSLY.” And then “Are you sure?” I think E ended up saying “Yes” more often during the conversation than I did. He also gave me a beautiful rose-shaped ring from a fabulous vintage jewelry store near our apartment. We smooched and held hands, and then went to the Cathedral gift shop because I had to pee. A good friend called while I was in the bathroom, allowing me a little time to squeal privately. Then we went to Two Amys for delicious delicious pizza and wine, and called the parents on the walk home. (My father's reaction when I told him that E proposed: “Proposed what?”) The rest of the day was snuggling and sharing the good news with friends and family. Also tending to minor sunburn.

It was pretty nice.

Taken right beforehand.

My Cup (of Words) Runneth Over

So far, the title of this blog has been partially disingenuous, considering its content.  I do use words here, but I could just as easily have named the blog “UseYourYoutube.”  There are a number of potential reasons for this, some better than others, but either way I do recognize the fact of the situation.

However, (and who didn’t see that word coming?) this weekend I had the rare and wonderful experience of spending an uninterrupted 36 hours with some of the nearest and dearest friends from different parts of the last decade and a half of my life.  I don’t think I can actually convey in words what this meant to me, and I’m not sure I did a good job of conveying it to my friends during the weekend, but I can say that it was . . . just  tremendous.  Although my weekend ended somewhat anticlimactically with some serious gastric distress, the easy rhythm of being surrounded by amazing, familiar, loving people – and the attendant sense of deep gratitude for such – will surely be my major takeaway.   In short, I had a weekend-long Friend-Contact-High™.  It was pretty cool.

On the way home from this adventure, I was thrilled to discover a fabulous aftereffect of the FCH phenomenon, as it will henceforth be known.  I am not a very good car-rider to begin with, and the aforementioned gastric difficulties (happily self-inflicted, I should note) persuaded me that strolling the final mile home in the fresh air would be a better choice than spending any further time in a car, even to chat with the very good pal who was driving.  E was out doing chores in the vicinity of my drop-off point, so we met up, and then he took a cab home carrying my suitcase and the many awkward/heavy things he bought at Target (seriously, how many bags of soil do we really need?).  I walked the rest of the way to the apartment, enjoying the sunshine and occasionally stopping to smell a rose - as I am wont to do.

While I was walking, I started doing what I always do when I’m alone and unoccupied: telling the story of myself, to myself.  This is something I assume everyone does to some degree, though the details and scope may vary - from telling the story of a work day to the story of a relationship to the story of one's whole character.  In my own story-telling, I tend to take a relatively long view. I recognize that such stories can have limited utility, and when shared can be really obnoxious, so I’ve been keeping them more to myself these days.  But as I was walking, words and stories and ideas came flooding through me in a way that they haven’t done much, of late.  I felt eager, even anxious, to get home and write it all down.  I can’t remember the last time I felt so motivated to get home and write.   Being with people who knew me so well, and who I knew so well, for that amount of time (frequently in a hot tub, with substantial servings of wine) opened some aperture in me that had been slowly contracting without my knowledge or consent.  It felt exciting, but not entirely foreign, and I enjoyed the unusual sense of urgency.

As I approached our building, it occurred to me that this feeling is probably the genesis of all the ubiquitous ensemble dramedies/cinematic circle jerks that litter the television and movie landscape.  Gathering a group of friends in one place with no real responsibilities aside from telling stories to each other really does create a synergy that is distinct from everyday and one-on-one interactions.  I still think ensemble dramedies are almost uniformly clunkers, because they are so painfully self-aware (and they so frequently, and inexplicably, end with a pity fuck – e.g. The Big Chill and St. Elmo’s Fire).  By the third ham-fisted speech I’m always reminded of this exchange from Anchorman:

Ron Burgundy: We are laughing and we are very good friends. Good buddies sharing a special moment...
Brian Fantana: Don't say anything Ron; just let it happen.
Ron Burgundy: ...laughing and enjoying our friendship, and someday we'll look back on this with much fondness.
Brian Fantana: Yeah, yeah.

But I have to admit that the Ron Burgundy mindset here is kind of my bread and butter.  I can absolutely understand how screenwriters get FCH after a weekend like I just had and can’t resist the urge to turn it into a self-indulgent movie like Four Seasons. 

I didn’t write a movie today, but I did write a blog post.  Whether that’s better or worse is debatable, but it’s certainly cheaper.

Give the People What They Want

E and I finally sent out our wedding invites last week.  Neither of us is really into fancy paper and we didn't have professional invites in the budget so we did the whole thing ourselves.  It worked out quite well!  We're lucky to have similar aesthetics (modern, colorful and simple) and complimentary DIT wishes (me: awesome words; E: spray paint!)  It also didn't hurt to have most of a ream of white cardstock just lying around, because I am a genius and cannot read labels when buying printer paper at Staples.*

We probably could have made the response cards out of cardstock as well, but I was nervous about USPS rules (and unable to measure .007 inches to be certain) so we bought pre-perforated cards from Staples.  As you can see, E spray-painted them in four different colors, which was a big pain in the ass for him but turned out AMAZING.

Despite these successes, I do have a confession.  The poem I chose, e.e. cummings' "love is a place,"

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds 

is slightly inaccurately quoted on the invite.  Though an American poet, cummings must have been feeling his expat oats when he wrote this one because used the British spelling of "skilfully" in line 9.  Perhaps the omitted "L" is intended to lighten and psychologically shorten the word so we can move on to the more crucial "curled."  Then again, a quick survey indicates that he generally preferred the one-L spelling, as he uses it in several other poems - indicating that it was perhaps more a lexical default than a conscious creative choice.

In any case, SCREW YOU, CUMMINGS, I added the "L." Apparently I am more worried about people thinking I typo-ed my own damn invitations than I am about integrity to his artistic vision.  It is probably convenient that I don't work in the literature field anymore, because whatever faith in literature I had that hadn't been destroyed by my own laziness, self-critical tendencies, or ongoing brain-atrophy just got dealt another blow.  On the other hand, I still have enough English major blowhard in me to plaster a big ol' e.e. cummings poem on our wedding invites . . . so there's that . . .


*We have still not bought actual printer paper.  Airplane passes, Groupons, maps - they all get printed on cardstock.  For over a year now.  I am nothing if not a lazy bastard.