Mozeltof and felicitations. Let me kiss the bride (Virtually) on the cheek and just say I'm happy for you and am sure all your efforts and triumphs, in Christ, shall be joyful.
Part 1: We met in French class, in high school. Both of us had hugely inaccurate first impressions of each other, which I find amusing. All our high school friends prophesied we'd get married, which we found vaguely embarrassing at the time. He unofficially proposed the summer after my freshman year of college, and I'm actually not sure there was an official proposal. We talked about it, and decided it was time.
My dress was the opposite of what I thought I would want. I told the shop lady "straps but no sleeves, and no train if possible", so of course I had a strapless dress with a cathedral-length train. My veil had a shortish part in the front and a longish part in back, very basic. It's amazing how little control gravity has over veil material. It was his parents' church, which they had been attending ever since they got married there. A hundred years ago it was a Swedish church, and most of the details have stayed the same. The service was short. We both think unity candles are ridiculous, and anyway they never stay lit so what kind of symbol of unity is that.
The reception was out in the country, a lovely building in a park with wood floors and lots of windows. We wanted it to be like his grandpa's eightieth birthday party: fun, and relatively informal. We had picnic food, and instead of a cake we made the pies ourselves. My extended family kept trying to get the DJ to turn down the music, and his extended family did the worm on the dance floor. And the twist. And the electric slide. And a choreographed dance that had been part of his sister's dance recital a few years ago. He and I and our immediate families were the last to leave because we stayed to clean up as all the guests were leaving.
I was only nervous two times that whole day: walking to the door of the church before my jaunt down the aisle, and sitting at the reception trying to eat and feeling like all the guests were looking at me.
the return
Devious Comments
certainly glad you're back, though
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| MIMESIS |
Details, please.
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It seems a fantastic paradox, but it is nevertheless a most important truth, that no architecture can be truly noble which is not imperfect.
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It seems a fantastic paradox, but it is nevertheless a most important truth, that no architecture can be truly noble which is not imperfect.
My dress was the opposite of what I thought I would want. I told the shop lady "straps but no sleeves, and no train if possible", so of course I had a strapless dress with a cathedral-length train. My veil had a shortish part in the front and a longish part in back, very basic. It's amazing how little control gravity has over veil material. It was his parents' church, which they had been attending ever since they got married there. A hundred years ago it was a Swedish church, and most of the details have stayed the same. The service was short. We both think unity candles are ridiculous, and anyway they never stay lit so what kind of symbol of unity is that.
The reception was out in the country, a lovely building in a park with wood floors and lots of windows. We wanted it to be like his grandpa's eightieth birthday party: fun, and relatively informal. We had picnic food, and instead of a cake we made the pies ourselves. My extended family kept trying to get the DJ to turn down the music, and his extended family did the worm on the dance floor. And the twist. And the electric slide. And a choreographed dance that had been part of his sister's dance recital a few years ago. He and I and our immediate families were the last to leave because we stayed to clean up as all the guests were leaving.
I was only nervous two times that whole day: walking to the door of the church before my jaunt down the aisle, and sitting at the reception trying to eat and feeling like all the guests were looking at me.
(part two, Ireland, later.)
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