Once again, I am going to a wedding. Thankfully, not mine. This time around, I will be travelling to a little country north of the Mexican border commonly known to people in the know as Tejas. A State the rest of the world knows as Texas. A very good friend of mine, who is probably the smartest person I know (she got her Ph.D. in atmospheric sciences because she though it would be fun to figure stuff out using non-linear math, for the love of Einstein!) , is getting married to a native son of Texas. The good news is that she is of the "unconventional bride" mindset. She is also absolutely wacky-doodle about Star Wars so I am hoping that some non-traditional thematic undertones will present themselves at the reception.
This is the first wedding in years that I have not been dreading. There will be lots of brainiacs and geeks in attendance, and her family is a total kick in the seat so I anticipate that it will be thoroughly entertaining.
The other slice of good news about this whole affair is that I will be flying into Austin, Texas where I will have some quality time with my best friend, Miss M. Can I tell y'all that this lady feeds my soul? She does. She's also the subject of this post. To say that we are intimate friends, puts it gently. We shall laugh, we shall cry, we shall drink red wine by the cowboy hat full, and we shall likely smoke cigarettes like bad girls. Self-destructive, sure, but that is what being reunited with good friends is all about.
The bad news is that I must post to this here blog every day. That, dear friends, will be challenging. Don't get me wrong, I am up to it. Just don't expect any miraculous feats of authorship to cross your screen. Though tall tales from Tejas may be entertaining and littered with alliteration.
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
November 4, 2007
October 9, 2007
The Hitching
So very sorry to keep you all waiting with baited breath to hear my tall tales of nuptials and delicate social commitment. I would have gotten this underway sooner, but I traveled back to the Boston area on Sunday and I had a hot date with the fella I’m having a ‘not a relationship’ with on Sunday night so I didn’t have much of a chance to collect my thoughts.
Because I know several of you will ask, he’s a brutal sadist to my inherent masochist. He may be the end of me, not likely, but I’m fully expecting an emotional ass-kicking coming soon. I’ve come to realize that I’ve started having the odious emotions for him that are usually at the center of my undoing. When considering that what we have together is a ‘not a relationship’, and he doesn’t want anything more than a ‘not a relationship’, I’ll soon be cashing in my chips, swallowing a bitter dose of hurt and sadness, and moving on. It’s a pity as I really like him. But once that turns to love, it’ll be a pit far darker than a pity.
Weddings weddings weddings. I wish I could say I think they are swell, but I’m not that girl. All day Saturday prior to the momentous event, I was filled with loathing and dread. The sister and I showered, shaved our legs, had panic about what jewelry to wear, and got our shit together enough to be comfortably presentable. Some may argue that we pulled off smashing.
Once our ducks were in a row, we realized that we were starving and probably shouldn’t embark on an hour and forty minute drive with nothing in our bellies, so we snarfed down huge bowls of brown rice and greens. Yay for that. I would have been a surly cunt with a low blood sugar crash on top of a mandatory event that I was none to enthusiastic about.
Nevertheless, I must admit, there were parts I was looking forward to: seeing my niece in a pretty dress, seeing the bride’s gown (I’m ever a ‘girl’ about a pretty dress, and it was indeed gorgeous, and without a stitch of lace.J), seeing a bunch of people, some of whom I last saw at the groom’s first wedding to my sister. So it wasn’t a waste of time and energy at all.
The wedding was at a farm in the Berkshires in southwestern Massachusetts. It was quite lovely. The day was beautiful, though a little warmer than I like days to be. Autumn in New England is quite lovely, even when on the warm side. On the way out to the farm I asked my sister what the name of the farm was, from the back of the car, all I heard was “Dead Meat Farm”. That wasn’t the name of it, but it made us laugh like a bunch of coo-coo birdies. The actual ceremony was held at a meadow clearing on a hillside a small trek away from the barn where the reception was held. The barn is a restored Normandy style barn that is used for events and the farm offers spa and hotel services as well. It’s all very fancy pants, yet down-home rustic. Curious.
I’ll never understand why wedding ceremonies take so much time. It seems like all that needs to be said is
“You in? All in? For ever and with all your heart?”
“Yup.”
“And you, same questions.”
“Yup.”
“Swap some rings, have a kiss, and get on with it, then.”
Sentimentality really bogs down a simple message. The more flowers and accents, the less sincere it seems. We must bear in mind that I’m a cynic.
It wasn’t my wedding, and they clearly didn’t have a Fresh Hell designed ceremony. The ceremony was long. There was the hullabaloo about the rings and how they were made and then they were sent around to all the attendees to put there special whammy, blessing, prayer, boogers, or whatever they wanted on them before they were exchanged. Several speakers spoke, read poems, passages from books and whatnot. Some vows were spoken, the rings got swapped.
Then they did something really cool. My niece, who was a flower girl and I daresay quite a good’un, was called up to the bride and groom. The bride squatted down and asked my niece to have her as her step-mother, and as a part of the family, and upon accepting, gave my niece a ring with her birthstone. As for joining pre-existing families to a new family unit, it was done with grace. Then the kiss happened and the long processional of the wedding party and all the guests to the barn for cocktails and hors devours whilst the bridal party had sunset pictures snapped. Against everyone’s clever advice, I practiced temperance for most of the evening. Sorry to disappoint, but as Savannah wisely noted in the comments of the previous post, best to keep your tongue in check some days, and this was one of them.
Most of the time, I wanted to disappear, and at one point I did find a quiet patio where no one was daring to venture and I had some peace in the cool evening air. I found myself wishing I had a book to read so that I could really recede into the background. This sort of social engagement often makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say to people. Small talk is not my forte. Fortunately, I came across some familiar faces, and I had the opportunity to catch up with some friends from about 10 years back who I’d seen very little of in that decade. A little harmless flirting happened as well. Not so bad.
About half way through my time at this shindig, I started feeling comfortable and was able to relax and actually enjoy myself. Perhaps I suffer from some variety of social anxiety disorder. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to just dismiss it all to some peculiar disorder?
When they called everyone in to collect the cards with their table assignments so we could sit down for dinner, I played along and found my card. I was seated with my sister, niece, niece’s best friend and her little sister, and the mother of my niece’s best friend. It was in essence the “kid’s table”. It was also on the third floor of an old open barn. Each floor is a half loft overlooking the floor below and guests were seated on the second and third floors. I’m convinced they put all the sexy people in the rafters, which is exactly why we were seated there. The only problem with the third floor was that it was hotter than Vulcan’s jockstrap.
After a while my sister came to me and pointed to our table assignment cards and said, “I don’t think this is an accident.” On each of our cards was the table assignment . . . Table 13. Totally intentional, and funny as hell.
We left at 10. One of our charges, a one and a half year old, started losing her mind so it was time for us to be on our way. Festivities carried on until 4:30 a.m. for some. I heard rumors of breaking into the kitchen and copious consumption of foodstuffs and vodka. Fantastic stuff! I was sleeping sweetly while the boys were being boys. As I understand it, the next day was a little rough for some of the revelers. Better them than me.
So that was the wedding. It wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated and my sister was strong and beautiful throughout. She probably didn’t even need me, but I’m glad she wanted me by her side.
Because I know several of you will ask, he’s a brutal sadist to my inherent masochist. He may be the end of me, not likely, but I’m fully expecting an emotional ass-kicking coming soon. I’ve come to realize that I’ve started having the odious emotions for him that are usually at the center of my undoing. When considering that what we have together is a ‘not a relationship’, and he doesn’t want anything more than a ‘not a relationship’, I’ll soon be cashing in my chips, swallowing a bitter dose of hurt and sadness, and moving on. It’s a pity as I really like him. But once that turns to love, it’ll be a pit far darker than a pity.
Weddings weddings weddings. I wish I could say I think they are swell, but I’m not that girl. All day Saturday prior to the momentous event, I was filled with loathing and dread. The sister and I showered, shaved our legs, had panic about what jewelry to wear, and got our shit together enough to be comfortably presentable. Some may argue that we pulled off smashing.
Once our ducks were in a row, we realized that we were starving and probably shouldn’t embark on an hour and forty minute drive with nothing in our bellies, so we snarfed down huge bowls of brown rice and greens. Yay for that. I would have been a surly cunt with a low blood sugar crash on top of a mandatory event that I was none to enthusiastic about.
Nevertheless, I must admit, there were parts I was looking forward to: seeing my niece in a pretty dress, seeing the bride’s gown (I’m ever a ‘girl’ about a pretty dress, and it was indeed gorgeous, and without a stitch of lace.J), seeing a bunch of people, some of whom I last saw at the groom’s first wedding to my sister. So it wasn’t a waste of time and energy at all.
The wedding was at a farm in the Berkshires in southwestern Massachusetts. It was quite lovely. The day was beautiful, though a little warmer than I like days to be. Autumn in New England is quite lovely, even when on the warm side. On the way out to the farm I asked my sister what the name of the farm was, from the back of the car, all I heard was “Dead Meat Farm”. That wasn’t the name of it, but it made us laugh like a bunch of coo-coo birdies. The actual ceremony was held at a meadow clearing on a hillside a small trek away from the barn where the reception was held. The barn is a restored Normandy style barn that is used for events and the farm offers spa and hotel services as well. It’s all very fancy pants, yet down-home rustic. Curious.
I’ll never understand why wedding ceremonies take so much time. It seems like all that needs to be said is
“You in? All in? For ever and with all your heart?”
“Yup.”
“And you, same questions.”
“Yup.”
“Swap some rings, have a kiss, and get on with it, then.”
Sentimentality really bogs down a simple message. The more flowers and accents, the less sincere it seems. We must bear in mind that I’m a cynic.
It wasn’t my wedding, and they clearly didn’t have a Fresh Hell designed ceremony. The ceremony was long. There was the hullabaloo about the rings and how they were made and then they were sent around to all the attendees to put there special whammy, blessing, prayer, boogers, or whatever they wanted on them before they were exchanged. Several speakers spoke, read poems, passages from books and whatnot. Some vows were spoken, the rings got swapped.
Then they did something really cool. My niece, who was a flower girl and I daresay quite a good’un, was called up to the bride and groom. The bride squatted down and asked my niece to have her as her step-mother, and as a part of the family, and upon accepting, gave my niece a ring with her birthstone. As for joining pre-existing families to a new family unit, it was done with grace. Then the kiss happened and the long processional of the wedding party and all the guests to the barn for cocktails and hors devours whilst the bridal party had sunset pictures snapped. Against everyone’s clever advice, I practiced temperance for most of the evening. Sorry to disappoint, but as Savannah wisely noted in the comments of the previous post, best to keep your tongue in check some days, and this was one of them.
Most of the time, I wanted to disappear, and at one point I did find a quiet patio where no one was daring to venture and I had some peace in the cool evening air. I found myself wishing I had a book to read so that I could really recede into the background. This sort of social engagement often makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say to people. Small talk is not my forte. Fortunately, I came across some familiar faces, and I had the opportunity to catch up with some friends from about 10 years back who I’d seen very little of in that decade. A little harmless flirting happened as well. Not so bad.
About half way through my time at this shindig, I started feeling comfortable and was able to relax and actually enjoy myself. Perhaps I suffer from some variety of social anxiety disorder. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to just dismiss it all to some peculiar disorder?
When they called everyone in to collect the cards with their table assignments so we could sit down for dinner, I played along and found my card. I was seated with my sister, niece, niece’s best friend and her little sister, and the mother of my niece’s best friend. It was in essence the “kid’s table”. It was also on the third floor of an old open barn. Each floor is a half loft overlooking the floor below and guests were seated on the second and third floors. I’m convinced they put all the sexy people in the rafters, which is exactly why we were seated there. The only problem with the third floor was that it was hotter than Vulcan’s jockstrap.
After a while my sister came to me and pointed to our table assignment cards and said, “I don’t think this is an accident.” On each of our cards was the table assignment . . . Table 13. Totally intentional, and funny as hell.
We left at 10. One of our charges, a one and a half year old, started losing her mind so it was time for us to be on our way. Festivities carried on until 4:30 a.m. for some. I heard rumors of breaking into the kitchen and copious consumption of foodstuffs and vodka. Fantastic stuff! I was sleeping sweetly while the boys were being boys. As I understand it, the next day was a little rough for some of the revelers. Better them than me.
So that was the wedding. It wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated and my sister was strong and beautiful throughout. She probably didn’t even need me, but I’m glad she wanted me by her side.
October 2, 2007
Marital Bliss
I’m looking down the barrel of one of my least favorite social obligations. Yep, there is a wedding in my future, and I want nothing to do with it. The long and short of it is that I can imagine being married, but I can’t imagine being the star of one of those ridiculous dog and pony shows. Perhaps there is a bitter orphan spinster thing going on here.
Why not just send regrets and enjoy the weekend instead, you ask? Well, because my sister needs support and asked me to be her date. The blessed event is her ex-husband’s second wedding. They have a kid together, and they are a family, and raising said kid together, divorce and all. When they divorced it was a This really isn’t working so lets not teach our kid how to have a fucked up relationship with her mate. sort of thing, and not a I HATE YOU AND I HOPE YOU BURN YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF SHIT!! dissolution to the marriage. We all get along very well and it’s important to my niece that my sister is there and the sister wants me there to support her. As much as they are all amicable and well adjusted in their relationships, it can be a challenge to watch the person who promised to be with you all your days, turn and promise to be with someone else for all of their days. So I’m going to a fucking wedding this weekend. Because there is no length that I wouldn’t travel for my sister.
Last weekend, while my sister was teaching a yoga class, I met her ex-husband and his bride to pick up my niece for some quality time planting land mines in the tender young mind of the lass. That’s what spinster aunties do, it’s our job to present ideas that the parents might find uncomfortable or inconvenient. I also taught her to chant “More sugar, no nap!” when she was a toddler.
When I was picking up the niece, I told the happy couple that I don’t give wedding gifts (and certainly not on a second wedding!) and asked them what their favorite charitable organization is so that I could make a donation in their names as a wedding gift. They own a home, they both have new cars, they are having a big-ass wedding, their cup runneth over, certainly they would consider giving back on some level, no?
Nope.
They suggested that they are a good charity, and further suggesting that their charity would be a new couch for their house. Then I got the speech about how they’ve never really had extra money to give.
!!!
This from people who are some of the most politically liberal folks I know. Way to walk the walk! These people go on vacations. They have all the hippy-yuppy newest gadgets. A new and improved Mac computer hasn’t been released without one of them embracing an upgrade of their systems. And they’ve never had the means to give? Horseshit, I say. When I was in college and so sadly broke that occasionally I couldn’t find a quarter to buy a Little Debbie Fudge Brownie to get me through the day, I found ways to lend a hand on some level. And I’m a died in the wool misanthrope.
At first I was going to find a charity for single mothers and make a sizable donation in their names, but I’m taking the high road. I’ll let them research the vast array of charities at just give and choose one that they feel good about since it’s their special day. Perhaps the exercise will plant a landmine in their not-so-malleable minds that will turn a philanthropic switch within them. I doubt it, but a girl can hope.
Why not just send regrets and enjoy the weekend instead, you ask? Well, because my sister needs support and asked me to be her date. The blessed event is her ex-husband’s second wedding. They have a kid together, and they are a family, and raising said kid together, divorce and all. When they divorced it was a This really isn’t working so lets not teach our kid how to have a fucked up relationship with her mate. sort of thing, and not a I HATE YOU AND I HOPE YOU BURN YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF SHIT!! dissolution to the marriage. We all get along very well and it’s important to my niece that my sister is there and the sister wants me there to support her. As much as they are all amicable and well adjusted in their relationships, it can be a challenge to watch the person who promised to be with you all your days, turn and promise to be with someone else for all of their days. So I’m going to a fucking wedding this weekend. Because there is no length that I wouldn’t travel for my sister.
Last weekend, while my sister was teaching a yoga class, I met her ex-husband and his bride to pick up my niece for some quality time planting land mines in the tender young mind of the lass. That’s what spinster aunties do, it’s our job to present ideas that the parents might find uncomfortable or inconvenient. I also taught her to chant “More sugar, no nap!” when she was a toddler.
When I was picking up the niece, I told the happy couple that I don’t give wedding gifts (and certainly not on a second wedding!) and asked them what their favorite charitable organization is so that I could make a donation in their names as a wedding gift. They own a home, they both have new cars, they are having a big-ass wedding, their cup runneth over, certainly they would consider giving back on some level, no?
Nope.
They suggested that they are a good charity, and further suggesting that their charity would be a new couch for their house. Then I got the speech about how they’ve never really had extra money to give.
!!!
This from people who are some of the most politically liberal folks I know. Way to walk the walk! These people go on vacations. They have all the hippy-yuppy newest gadgets. A new and improved Mac computer hasn’t been released without one of them embracing an upgrade of their systems. And they’ve never had the means to give? Horseshit, I say. When I was in college and so sadly broke that occasionally I couldn’t find a quarter to buy a Little Debbie Fudge Brownie to get me through the day, I found ways to lend a hand on some level. And I’m a died in the wool misanthrope.
At first I was going to find a charity for single mothers and make a sizable donation in their names, but I’m taking the high road. I’ll let them research the vast array of charities at just give and choose one that they feel good about since it’s their special day. Perhaps the exercise will plant a landmine in their not-so-malleable minds that will turn a philanthropic switch within them. I doubt it, but a girl can hope.
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