Bright-Eyed

The night before the wedding, I slept the happy, deep, undisturbed sleep of a girl who knows she’s marrying the right husband the next day. (It may also have been the happy, deep, undisturbed sleep of a girl whose multi-decibel-snoring-fiancé is sleeping in another building. I’m just saying.) Anyhoo, I woke up bright-eyed and ready to grab brunch with a group of my favorite gals.


I don’t think I ate much – just moved my food around and thought about how this was IT. My wonderful friends fussed over me (and ordered me to eat more). It was deliciously lovely (and downright delicious).

I did my makeup at home myself, and I also had thought I’d do my own hair in my regular, everyday straight style. Like dis:

But when I went to the Enchantrix of Hair to get a cut two weeks before the wedding, I asked her to fix me up like she would on my wedding day. I liked it, but it seemed like a lot of work to make an appointment and get over to see her on wedding day. And I liked my regular do too. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Short story long, that day, the Mister picked me up from the appointment and made this incredibly contented aaaahhhhing sound when he saw my hair. Now this is a guy who probably wouldn’t notice if I shaved my head and painted my scalp purple. So if the hair trial produced that kind of reaction, you can bet your bottom dollar I was going to do it again. On the wedding day. Duh.

Here is the Enchantrix in action, whipping my babyfine hair into a wedding-worthy do:

Apparently this was a very wise choice, because on the wedding day, Pop told me FIVE BILLION TIMES that he LOOOOVED my hairdo. And he wasn’t alone. If I had the Enchantrix’s magical superpowers, I would fix my hair like this every day. But alas, I am a mere mortal.

After the hair spell, we went home to pick up the flowers that I put together the day before. Yep, I did my own flowers. Spent a total of $35 bucks on ‘em. That was for the mothers’ corsages, the tossing bouquet, a few extra flowers for my MOH, and the guys’ boutonnieres. All of which I made myself. My own flowers? Picked ‘em from my friend’s yard. Well, most of them, anyway. I confess to picking a few more from other people’s flower beds on the way home. It takes a village, you know. Here are the results:

MOH-Super Tall Girl's nosegay was a center of Bells of Ireland surrounded by lilies of the valley. My bouquet was all lilies of the valley. The bouts were a Scottish thistle (a nod to the Mister's and my heritage) paired with a succuluent bud from a plant called hens-and-chickens pulled from my friend's garden. Manly and green, and they happen to be Pop's favorite. The mamas each had a single flower to carry, tied with a slim black ribbon. Here's a closeup of my bouquet. It smelled MAHvelous.

And THAT, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the State of My Wedding Morning. What happened next, you ask? You know the drill. Tune in next time.