As many of you have surmised, this Sunday, Sophie and I were married. If you'd like to read my story about the weekend, click the spoiler link below. If you are frightened of weddings, sentimentalism, fawning affection, Green Berets or drunken ladies, do not click this link:
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
Our wedding was a small affair _ we had thirty attendees total _ my friends Eric and Stephanie volunteered to host the actual wedding on Sunday, and we invited the nuclear families (Em has 2 brothers, I have 1) and asked friends of ours from California, DC and St. Louis to come attend.
The wedding was Sunday, but we invited everyone in for a weekend in our quiet little left-leaning, very-much-like-San-Francisco college town. People started arriving on Friday, and we had a party over at our house that first night.
It was actually quite cool, because KikiBH and MrGoose hadn't met any of our other friends prior to the weekend, but as we expected, they fit right in. Our friends and family make up an eclectic lot, including a department store manager, a sex therapist, a Special Forces soldier, video and film producers, a retired criminal Judge, former strippers, full-time moms, several English or Literature degrees, computer security specialists, etc.
The things they all have in common: they all have huge hearts, are kind and gentle and are all whip-smart.
So as you can imagine, the conversations were never dull.
Friday night we did some take out food and started in on a bottle of wine that my brother Drue (DC2020) brought over. Kiki, Goose, Eric and Steph and my dad and step-mother came over.
The highlight of that evening was when my stepmother got drunk (vodka martinis on a mostly empty stomach = trouble) and started lecturing Kiki and Goose about how by not having children they are breaking their mother's hearts (totally awkward, I have to tell you, but having some small experience with drunks in their families, they were real troopers about it).
Then about the point where we were all looking at the ceiling or our shoes, step-mom jabs her finger at Eric (who is a Green Beret) and says in a belligerent tone, "what are *you* looking at?"
Now, in her defense, this is kind of in line with her sense of humor and was surely meant playfully, but in the context, it really came off as aggressive. The room went quiet. Of all the people in the room to get aggressive with, she picks the 220 lb. professional war-fighter*. It was pretty classic.
He replied, completely nonplussed, "Generally, whatever I feel like."
(*The weekend's ROE didn't include yelling at old ladies, heh heh.)
A short while later, I actually threw my step-mom out and told her to go sleep it off. I said, "I've never 86-ed an old lady before, but there's a first time for everything."
She said, "are you calling me old!?"
"Yeah, and you're drunk, too, so go sleep it off!"
Saturday, we ran 'round finalizing wedding preparations, getting the rented tables & chairs, etc.
That morning, I went out to breakfast with just Em's father and two brothers. We had "man time." Em's dad asked about our interest in football (soccer), saying something along the lines of "now talk about a dull sport!"
I got to (rather diplomatically, of course!) correct him and explain how, in fact, it's the only sport where there's something interesting happening the entire time, as every facet of the game is a technical duel . . . and there's no time-outs.
Saturday night, we did a dinner at the local historical hotel, in the "Big-6 Room": a classy space in a very old hotel with all sorts of worked-stone sports logos from back when the Big-12 was the "Big 6" (I think circa 1930). This dinner was great as some more of the local friends rolled in, and the parents really got their first chance to just hang out together. Judy (my step mom) and Lauri (Em's mom) were inseparable. It was great to see.
We wandered down to a local restaurant and had more drinks, closed their bar, brought the party back to our house and were up until 4 am or so talking and drinking.
Sunday arrives - the fateful day - and I'm hungover like a wet dog. Of course, I haven't slept much all weekend, and have had too much alcohol and not enough water. Sophie, thankfully, feels fine.
We slooooowly dragged ass out to finish some last minute details, and then, at 3pm (with the wedding scheduled to start at 5) a massive thunderstorm rolls in! It's Kansas!
Luckily, the front was only 50 miles in width, and moving at about 50 miles per hour, so while it kicked some ass, it didn't last, and by 4 the sun was back out.
Eric and Steph have a side-yard (modest by Kansas standards, huge by big-city standards), and we set up three 5' circumference tables with white tablecloths and candles in fall-themed centerpieces.
We got some pictures taken outdoors, arrived about 5:30, and had a cocktail (water for me, thanks!) and appetizer mixer. Drue had prepared the food for this event, and we had crostini with 5 toppings (roasted garlic, kalamata olives and marinated peppers being the 3 that I can remember) and empanadas (called hand-pies in London). Empanadas are one of my favorite foods, and these were GOOD. My buddy Ian told Drue that if he could make Empanadas like that all the time, he'd marry him next!
Our friends Chris & Ang and Scott & Britton had 5 kids between them: River and Helene (aged 6), Emily Rose and Mage (aged 4) and wee Christopher (aged 2). The kids were fantastic all day, running around and generally cute-ing up the place.
The ceremony took place at twilight, and was officiated by my father. As you can imagine, it was all we three (Em, my dad and I) could do not to cry. It was very touching. The vows were very good_spiritual but not religious. Looking into her eyes and saying the words was powerful. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling.
After the vows, Drue got the dinner plates ready: roast chicken with a miso glaze on a bed of shitake mushrooms and baby bok choy, a steak filet cut with herb butter and mashed potatoes, and pan-seared scallops on a corn, carrot and soybean chutney.
Now, my brother is as good at his job as nearly anyone out there_he's just not as famous (yet). And while he always has room to grow, he has ridiculous skillz in the kitchen. As the occasion was very special to him, he really went all-out. The food was off the rails, and people started freaking out about how good it was.
The wine was spectacular as well. Em's father spared no expense, and provided a case of wines from each of his 3 favorite Napa wineries (it was grueling research, he assured us all, but for his daughter, he would drink the wines of Hades if need be).
At our table, we had both sets of parents, Emily's brothers, and Dr. Daley (a sex therapist). Dr. Daley and my father have both at times not far behind us been attacked quite publicly by the Religious Right-Wing nutjobs that infest this fair state like roaches in the Projects, so it was quite amusing to see them both share some stories.
In fact, Dr. Daley had left his own birthday party to attend our wedding, so he had to eat and dash. In what I consider an auspicious omen, our wedding fell on Dr. Daley's 69th birthday.
After the dinner, people started to mingle, and I began to wander about receiving congratulations and just realizing that probably for the last time in a while (if not ever), all the people I really love were in one place, connecting with each other and basking in the promise of our union. Nothing but smiles, smiles and smiles on every face.
^ Maybe that sounds corny, but that's exactly how it was.
Monday morning we flew off to Las Vegas, which as you know, is Las Vegas. Pics of the honeymoon in Sophie's journal.
While I'm not a Vegas fan, I did discover how much better the town is when you're there in the company of a beautiful woman you are completely in love with.
Our wedding was a small affair _ we had thirty attendees total _ my friends Eric and Stephanie volunteered to host the actual wedding on Sunday, and we invited the nuclear families (Em has 2 brothers, I have 1) and asked friends of ours from California, DC and St. Louis to come attend.
The wedding was Sunday, but we invited everyone in for a weekend in our quiet little left-leaning, very-much-like-San-Francisco college town. People started arriving on Friday, and we had a party over at our house that first night.
It was actually quite cool, because KikiBH and MrGoose hadn't met any of our other friends prior to the weekend, but as we expected, they fit right in. Our friends and family make up an eclectic lot, including a department store manager, a sex therapist, a Special Forces soldier, video and film producers, a retired criminal Judge, former strippers, full-time moms, several English or Literature degrees, computer security specialists, etc.
The things they all have in common: they all have huge hearts, are kind and gentle and are all whip-smart.
So as you can imagine, the conversations were never dull.
Friday night we did some take out food and started in on a bottle of wine that my brother Drue (DC2020) brought over. Kiki, Goose, Eric and Steph and my dad and step-mother came over.
The highlight of that evening was when my stepmother got drunk (vodka martinis on a mostly empty stomach = trouble) and started lecturing Kiki and Goose about how by not having children they are breaking their mother's hearts (totally awkward, I have to tell you, but having some small experience with drunks in their families, they were real troopers about it).
Then about the point where we were all looking at the ceiling or our shoes, step-mom jabs her finger at Eric (who is a Green Beret) and says in a belligerent tone, "what are *you* looking at?"
Now, in her defense, this is kind of in line with her sense of humor and was surely meant playfully, but in the context, it really came off as aggressive. The room went quiet. Of all the people in the room to get aggressive with, she picks the 220 lb. professional war-fighter*. It was pretty classic.
He replied, completely nonplussed, "Generally, whatever I feel like."
(*The weekend's ROE didn't include yelling at old ladies, heh heh.)
A short while later, I actually threw my step-mom out and told her to go sleep it off. I said, "I've never 86-ed an old lady before, but there's a first time for everything."
She said, "are you calling me old!?"
"Yeah, and you're drunk, too, so go sleep it off!"
Saturday, we ran 'round finalizing wedding preparations, getting the rented tables & chairs, etc.
That morning, I went out to breakfast with just Em's father and two brothers. We had "man time." Em's dad asked about our interest in football (soccer), saying something along the lines of "now talk about a dull sport!"
I got to (rather diplomatically, of course!) correct him and explain how, in fact, it's the only sport where there's something interesting happening the entire time, as every facet of the game is a technical duel . . . and there's no time-outs.
Saturday night, we did a dinner at the local historical hotel, in the "Big-6 Room": a classy space in a very old hotel with all sorts of worked-stone sports logos from back when the Big-12 was the "Big 6" (I think circa 1930). This dinner was great as some more of the local friends rolled in, and the parents really got their first chance to just hang out together. Judy (my step mom) and Lauri (Em's mom) were inseparable. It was great to see.
We wandered down to a local restaurant and had more drinks, closed their bar, brought the party back to our house and were up until 4 am or so talking and drinking.
Sunday arrives - the fateful day - and I'm hungover like a wet dog. Of course, I haven't slept much all weekend, and have had too much alcohol and not enough water. Sophie, thankfully, feels fine.
We slooooowly dragged ass out to finish some last minute details, and then, at 3pm (with the wedding scheduled to start at 5) a massive thunderstorm rolls in! It's Kansas!
Luckily, the front was only 50 miles in width, and moving at about 50 miles per hour, so while it kicked some ass, it didn't last, and by 4 the sun was back out.
Eric and Steph have a side-yard (modest by Kansas standards, huge by big-city standards), and we set up three 5' circumference tables with white tablecloths and candles in fall-themed centerpieces.
We got some pictures taken outdoors, arrived about 5:30, and had a cocktail (water for me, thanks!) and appetizer mixer. Drue had prepared the food for this event, and we had crostini with 5 toppings (roasted garlic, kalamata olives and marinated peppers being the 3 that I can remember) and empanadas (called hand-pies in London). Empanadas are one of my favorite foods, and these were GOOD. My buddy Ian told Drue that if he could make Empanadas like that all the time, he'd marry him next!
Our friends Chris & Ang and Scott & Britton had 5 kids between them: River and Helene (aged 6), Emily Rose and Mage (aged 4) and wee Christopher (aged 2). The kids were fantastic all day, running around and generally cute-ing up the place.
The ceremony took place at twilight, and was officiated by my father. As you can imagine, it was all we three (Em, my dad and I) could do not to cry. It was very touching. The vows were very good_spiritual but not religious. Looking into her eyes and saying the words was powerful. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling.
After the vows, Drue got the dinner plates ready: roast chicken with a miso glaze on a bed of shitake mushrooms and baby bok choy, a steak filet cut with herb butter and mashed potatoes, and pan-seared scallops on a corn, carrot and soybean chutney.
Now, my brother is as good at his job as nearly anyone out there_he's just not as famous (yet). And while he always has room to grow, he has ridiculous skillz in the kitchen. As the occasion was very special to him, he really went all-out. The food was off the rails, and people started freaking out about how good it was.
The wine was spectacular as well. Em's father spared no expense, and provided a case of wines from each of his 3 favorite Napa wineries (it was grueling research, he assured us all, but for his daughter, he would drink the wines of Hades if need be).
At our table, we had both sets of parents, Emily's brothers, and Dr. Daley (a sex therapist). Dr. Daley and my father have both at times not far behind us been attacked quite publicly by the Religious Right-Wing nutjobs that infest this fair state like roaches in the Projects, so it was quite amusing to see them both share some stories.
In fact, Dr. Daley had left his own birthday party to attend our wedding, so he had to eat and dash. In what I consider an auspicious omen, our wedding fell on Dr. Daley's 69th birthday.
After the dinner, people started to mingle, and I began to wander about receiving congratulations and just realizing that probably for the last time in a while (if not ever), all the people I really love were in one place, connecting with each other and basking in the promise of our union. Nothing but smiles, smiles and smiles on every face.
^ Maybe that sounds corny, but that's exactly how it was.
Monday morning we flew off to Las Vegas, which as you know, is Las Vegas. Pics of the honeymoon in Sophie's journal.
While I'm not a Vegas fan, I did discover how much better the town is when you're there in the company of a beautiful woman you are completely in love with.
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**happy dance**
Vegas, huh? You'll have to let me know what things you did and/or recommend doing there since we're hitting it over Thanksgiving.
Congrats again!