The Real Beginning

Perhaps this is where I should have started my recaps. The ceremony. The ritual. The moment of marriage. For us, the ceremony was so much more than a prelude to the reception. It was (and is) the time when our promises were made real. It was (and is) the crux of our wedding and the beginning of our marriage. Yes. This is the real beginning.

We started with a welcome and a prayer. And then, because we originate from a place of “yes,” we began the affirmations. I am a woman, a feminist, and an adult; I am no one’s gift to give away. But it was exceedingly important to my father and stepfather that they have the opportunity to affirm their support for the marriage. They did. Then the Mister and I affirmed that we intended to enter into the covenant of marriage, and we said our “I dos.” Right at the outset. Do you take this man? Do you take this woman? Yes. We do. Finally, we asked the congregation if they would give their encouragement. They did too.

Next, a bit more tradition and heritage. While I will always remain a part of my own family, I wanted to make an outward sign that I joined with my Mister’s family. So, in the ancient Scottish tradition, my mother in law, Momma Mac, pinned the Mister’s family tartan on my dress.

After which our celebrant read this prayer of thanksgiving by ee cummings:

i thank You God for most this amazing day:
for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes

I’m going to interrupt the recap to give some unsolicited advice. Choose your celebrant wisely. Pick someone you love and who loves you. Someone who knows you. Someone truly extraordinary for an extraordinary moment in your lives. I realize that very few people in the world could have a celebrant like ours. You see, we didn’t pick a celebrant who happened to be our friend. We were blessed to have a friend who happened to be a celebrant to perform the sacrament of our marriage. And that, dear readers, is how we ended up with the most beautiful sermon I couldn’t have imagined. It included elements like this:

I’m going to ask you to turn around and just take in the view that I see – all the faces of people who have joined both of you in this celebration of marriage. These are the people who have been with you and will continue to be with you, as you start this new life together.

Sometimes when I look out over the congregation, I imagine that the pews don’t stop at the church doors, but keep going and going and are filled with people, so I invite you to look past these sanctuary walls and to see the pews extending back and back, and see how they are filled with all the people who have gathered here for you: all the people who have ever loved you, all those who have shown you kindness, all those who have fought for your freedom and for justice, all those who have taught you and comforted you and been your friend, throughout the generations.

I invite you to see your brothers, seated in a pew, happy and glad for all you have become and will be together. These are the people in your life, the ones who will guide you in your marriage to each other. Take a good look at them, for they are here because they love you.

People always say to take a moment. To really experience the wedding ceremony. To take a deep breath. To let the love of your friends and family wash over you. In all the excitement, I would have forgotten to do just that, had our celebrant not reminded us. But when she did remind us, time stopped. The room was fairly glowing with love. Bright and shining and warm and comforting. It was the essence of Ahhhhhh.

And then. Then! We said our vows. Which we wrote together.

I choose you
To be no other than yourself,
Loving what I know of you,
And trusting who you will become.
I will respect and honor you
Always and in all ways.
With you I pledge to repair
One small piece of the world.
I take you to be my spouse,
To have and to hold,
In tears and in laughter,
In sickness and in health,
To love and to cherish,
From this day forward,
In this world and the next.

We wanted to pledge something that was more than now. We wanted to acknowledge all that we did not yet know. We wanted to use traditional words, but add modern feelings. Because we have lost loved ones, for whom and from whom we still feel so much love, we wanted to promise a love that went beyond “until death do us part.” And my very favorite part of our vows? All the Mister’s idea – to pledge to repair the world. There is no greater healing than that.

We know that not everyone shares our spiritual beliefs, and we respect differences out in the world and here in our own communities and families. But for us, the marriage ceremony included God. And so we had communion. We had to fight with the church lady about the logistics. We wanted to be served last, after every single one of our guests had the opportunity to partake. She argued and wheedled and moved things around. But we stuck to our guns. And in the end, it worked just as we knew it should. It. Was. Right.

After all the solemn words and promises, it was time for a huge helping of joy with more than a sprinkle of humor. Our celebrant pronounced us husband and wife, we kissed (and kissed!), and the organist launched into our recessional. The Hallelujah Chorus. I can’t imagine a happier husband, a more cheerful wife, or a merrier congregation. To see people who have known sadness find true happiness? There were tears of joy and hoots of laughter. I may have even hopped up and down a bit. We sealed our marriage with mirth.

Amen.

Isn't That Special?

Well! Those of you who were adamantly against a receiving line of any sort at the ceremony have got your wish. We met with the Church Lady last night.


She isn’t a bad lady – just . . . rigid. The Mister and I firmly believe that the ceremony is the single most important part of the wedding. Not the cake. Not the flowers. The vows. So we spent a lot of time tailoring the ceremony to reflect the realities of our families (my family mostly) and the depth of our relationship with each other and with God. Our meeting last night seems to indicate we’re the first people ever to do this at our church.

As a brief aside, this wedding isn’t the first time my family has switched things up a bit in the church to reflect the realities of a situation. I’ve mentioned before that my twin brother died eight years ago. Apparently, his funeral was the first in the church to openly acknowledge that the death was by suicide. Until then, people had just used the euphemism, “He died suddenly.” While it was certainly difficult to be that open, my family felt that it was the best way to help shine a light on the dark world of suicide by encouraging open discussion. It was the right decision for us.

So, back to the meeting with the Church Lady (“CL”). First, we spent some time explaining that we had a mixed bridal party. A woman (Super Tall Girl) and a man (my Mantron of Honor) will stand up on my side, and a man (the Mister’s brother) and a woman (the lady who introduced us) will stand up on the Mister’s side. CL kept calling my side, “The Girls.” My Mantron of Honor is very secure in his masculinity, so I’m not worried. But it cracks me up that he WORKS AT THE CHURCH, and she still wouldn’t recognize his role.

Next step: The Parents. I’ve got all kinds of ‘em. And I decided early on to treat everybody as equals. This has caused no end of friction. In fact, I haven’t blogged about it, because it’s too delicate an issue. But trust me. This is important. CL wanted my stepmother to be seated before the ceremony began, rather than with the family. And she paled visibly when I said that both my father and stepdad were going to walk me down the aisle. Um, I know that traditionally there was no role for the stepparents. But that’s when it was traditional to have only one set of parents. My parents divorced when I was six. My stepparents have contributed immeasurably to raising me. They WILL NOT be treated as second class citizens. Not now. Not on the wedding day. Not ever. ‘Nuff said.

The Mister lost his temper when CL told him that, “There is no photography during the wedding ceremony.” He called the rule rude (I think he was going to say bulls**t), and got all red in the face. CL then softened this unequivocal statement by adding that the photographer can take photos from the choir loft without a flash. I pointed out the futility of the rule, since tons of guests bring cameras and take photos (with flash) throughout the ceremony. But I got over it. And the Mister fumed. On to the last issue.

When we asked about leaving the church after the ceremony, CL informed us that the church “doesn’t permit receiving lines” of any kind. Including releasing the rows. Whaaa? We go to the fanciest-schmantziest church in the city, where everything is too, too proper, and receiving lines are verboten? Seriously? Miss Manners would have a conniption.

Fortunately, the Mister, our minister, and I had been discussing a receiving line alternative over the past week or so, whereby we would release the rows of guests as they go to communion. This would allow us to see every guest even more quickly than a receiving line, because it would be during the ceremony. And the guests would be asked to respect the sanctity of communion by remaining silent. This is perhaps the newest idea we’ve had so far. Plenty of people have had mixed bridal parties and stepparents participating in the ceremony. Maybe not in our church, but they’re not uncommon these days. But releasing the rows for communion – now that’s different.

CL didn’t attempt to hide her disdain. “Leaving the front of the sanctuary during the service? Well . . . that’s just . . . wrong!” And so, our minister came to the rescue. She suggested that the Mister and I stand near where people came forward to take communion, so we could smile at each person. It’s the perfect compromise (and the quickest receiving line option in the universe).

So all you anti-receiving line folks out there, you got your wish. And all I’ve got to say about it is, “Well, isn’t that special?”

Receiving Lines are Like Lawyers

Miss Manners says that the bride and the groom must greet every guest at the wedding. When you have invited a jillion people, however, it’s pretty doggone difficult to figure out a way to greet everyone in a sincere but efficient way.

The Mister and I would like to enjoy the reception, which means enjoying our guests. It does not, however, mean being cornered at the reception by Crazy Aunt Talksalot, who wants to tell us all about her hemorrhoids. We want to be hospitable and gracious, but we also want to have a moment or two to enjoy the day and to eat our own dinners. (I get grouchy when I don’t eat, which would lead to me telling Aunt Talksalot where to stick her hemorrhoids, if you know what I mean.)

As far as I can tell, there are five basic options to greet the guests:
1. A traditional receiving line, with parents and the bridal party included.
2. Just the bride and the groom at the back of the ceremony, greeting guests.
3. Reentering the ceremony to release the rows of guests one by one.
4. Going around from table to table at the reception.
5. Randomly seeing people at the reception, without any plan to get to everybody.

My entire experience at weddings involves waiting to greet the bride and groom. Whether it’s in a receiving line at the ceremony, being released by rows, or searching the dark reception for a flash of white dress, this waiting seems to take forever. I will admit that forever is slightly more bearable when I’ve got a canapé in my mouth and a glass of wine in my hand, but forever it is. The Mister and I didn’t know what to do.

So we took a poll of friends and family. What did they do? How long did it take them? What would they do differently? Here’s what I learned.

Receiving lines are like lawyers. People hate lawyers, but they love their own. Most people looooved whatever method they used at their own weddings, and they haaaated every other method that anyone else has ever tried.

There were a few exceptions, however. Several people who went table to table at the reception did not have a chance to eat dinner or enjoy the party. They wished that they had used option 1, 2, or 3. These are the people who got corned by Aunt Talksalot. And Uncle Gripey.

If only we could combine the concepts – instead of communion, we could serve canapés and real wine (rather than the crangrape juice I swear our church serves). “This bruchetta is the body of Christ, and by the way, we loved the toaster!” But I digress. Into blasphemy.

Here’s our decision. We are NOT doing option #1. People want to see us, and briefly. All four of my parents have the gift of gab, and if they were included in the receiving line, we’d be there until my next birthday. We are NOT doing option #5. I’m sure it works very well when you have a small or medium sized wedding, but at a biggun, it’s well nigh impossible. Besides, we want to make the effort affirmatively to thank each person for coming.

If it’s sunny, we’ll stand at the back of the ceremony to greet guests as they head outside to wait for our grand getaway. That way, if they are dying to go to the bathroom (or just don’t really want to say hello to us), they can slip out of the receiving line to do what they’ve gotta do. If it’s raining, however, we need a place for people to congregate out of the elements. That’s in the back of the ceremony where we would do the receiving line on a sunny day. So if Mother Nature doesn’t cooperate, we’ll reenter the ceremony to release the rows. That way, people can remain seated until we get to their row, so they’ll be more comfortable.

For those of you who were rooting for option #4, may I make a suggestion? A few well-chosen items from your hotel mini bar would recreate the canapé-and-wine feeling you’d get while waiting to see us at the reception. And if you don’t want the procedure to take forever, leave your hemorrhoid stories at home. (wink!)

(P.S. The picture in this post is of a branch of the Mister's family. His beloved grandfather is third from the left, no doubt thinking that wedding photos take even longer than receving lines.)

MOH

This is how I feel about Super Tall Girl, my MOH:

Oh, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away. -- George Eliot

Re-stuck

Well, my sticky situation is re-stuck. No details now . . . . But please think good thoughts for me. I need 'em.

Sticky Situation

After fretting for weeks about the who-walks-Jules-down-the-aisle conversations, they went great. Mr. Mama, with whom I lived growing up, was more than happy to share the honor(duty?) with Pop. And Pop graciously did the same, with nary a ruffled feather or word of complaint. Whew!

Then I started thinking about what would happen when we got down to the altar. The officiant usually says something like, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

The tradition of giving the bride away apparently came from the days when marriage was as fiscal a transaction as a relational one. One set of parents was giving money to the other set, and the act of giving the bride away signified that the arrangements were complete. It also meant that the bride was no longer financially dependent on her parents, and was now dependent on the groom.

I am a feminist. And by that I mean that I try to differentiate the position of women from that of a doormat, to paraphrase Rebecca West. So I gave no small measure of thought to the idea of nixing the “Who gives this woman” part of the ceremony. First of all, I’m not a possession to be given away. I’m a person, for heaven’s sake! Second, to the extent I “belong” to my parents, they’re not giving me away--they can’t get rid of me that easily! They’re just marring me off. (Wink.) Finally, I’m not going to be dependent on my groom! I don’t like being dependent on anybody. (Does anyone else have trouble clicking on the “Submit” button on internet forms? Can’t the button say, “OK” or “Enter” or something?! I do NOT want to submit! (I guess that makes it clear whether we’re going to say “obey” in our vows.) Humph.)

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But the Mister is nothing if he’s not traditional, and if I wasn’t going to say “obey,” he wanted the “who gives this woman” yadda yadda yadda in the ceremony. I do like tradition as much as the next gal . . . so I agreed.

But I wanted to change the response! “I give myself freely!” seemed just about right to me. It effectively says, “I own myself!” Mama and Pop were horrified. Horr. If. Fied! Apparently, the idea of a ukulele band was more palatable to them than me giving my own self away. They might not agree on much, but they backed each other up on this one. Who am I to fight this kind of parental unity?

Besides, I realized that this is their one really active role in the ceremony. I’m not doin’ the unity candle. If I take their speaking part, they might feel compelled to speak now rather than forever hold their peace, if you know what I mean.

OK. So what WAS the response going to be? I didn’t want to leave anyone out of the equation, so the usual, “Her mother and I do,” wasn’t going to cut it. I belong to Mr. Mama and Mrs. Pop as much as I do to Mama and Pop! If I’ve done nothing else in this blog, I hope I've made is abundantly clear. I also wanted to avoid the dads talking over each other or murmuring different things. So, with the help of Mama, I came up with a two main options:

Pop and Mr. Mama: We do.

Pop and Mr. Mama: Her parents do.

I pitched these to Pop, who murmured something about it not sounding very official. He doesn’t get to be too involved in the wedding planning. And this is his speaking part! He’s not the type to come up with ceremony wording, but he does like to vote on the options. So I called Mama to brainstorm. And she came up with a winner! Without further ado . . .

Officiant: Pop, do you and Mrs. Pop give this woman to be married to this man?
Pop: We do.
Officiant: Mr. Mama, do you and Mama give this woman to be married to this man?
Mr. Mama: We do.

Sticky situation . . . well . . . unstuck.

Out Loud

My favorite part of planning the wedding so far has been the opportunity for people to say nice things to each other. After my twin died, I realized that while people say lovely things ABOUT their friends and family, people hardly ever say those things TO their loved ones. I made a conscious decision to communicate all the nice things I heard about others directly to them. Life’s too short to only hear the spiteful gossip, no? And when I’m thinking something nice, I go on and say it. Why not share the love?

When parts of the wedding involve saying kind things, it makes me even happier than I already would be planning a giant hoedown with a big white poofy dress and lots o’ cake. That’s pretty danged happy.

One opportunity we had to say the good stuff was at our awesome engagement party. First of all, it was a party to celebrate that another party is comin’ up! (The wedding. Duh!) If a party on its own is great, then a party to celebrate another party is great squared.

My MOH planned the shindig. It. Was. Amazing. We had about forty people there! Nearby friends . . .
. . . and family.

I wore the special locket with my twin’s picture inside, so he could be there too. Here I am showing it to Mrs. Pop.

Super-MOH didn’t do it all on her own – this lovely lady (I’ll call her Soul Sister) helped with the preparations and laughed so much, she got us all in on the act.

Did I mention there was cake?

But my favorite parts of our engagement party were when people got to say and write nice things. My MOH put engagement pictures of us on each table, along with bottles of wine, which the guests signed with well-wishes and funny quips.

My MOH and Pop each gave a toast.

And I toasted the host, my best girl.

My neighbor once said that he didn’t want flowers at his funeral. “Don’t wait ‘till I’m dead,” he said. I sent him the biggest bouquet I could find the very next day.

There are lots of chances to say the really important things in life. I like the few moments just before I drop off to sleep, because the good thoughts swim to the surface of consciousness like little silver bubbles. But there are regular every day moments too – in the car at a stoplight. When you’re cooking dinner. Sometimes I think nice things when I’m brushing my teeth, but no one can understand what I’m saying through the globs of toothpaste. (Mrph toodee, schlobbr!)

Don’t forget the big moments too, especially at a wedding. Saying your vows. Whispering to your spouse just after you recess back down the aisle. Toasting your parents.

The next time you hear or think something nice about someone, just go on and say it. Out loud.

And now, to end this post on a less sentimental note, here’s my favorite photo from the engagement party. Pop. Being . . . Pop. Love it.

POOdles

So sorry to have fallen off the face of the earth lately – the Mister and I have had a series of visits from our dogs-in-law who have decided that pooping on our rugs is the height of propriety.

First, Momma Mac visited with Opie. God love him, Opie is one hundred and sixty three and a half years old. He just couldn’t help the pooping. Then Pop and Mrs. Pop dropped off Tilly, who is recovering from a life-threatening bout of rocky mountain spotted fever. (No, I’m not kidding.) The poor gal was completely traumatized by her illness, and wasn’t really up for visiting quite yet.

Opie and Tilly are both poodles. And the first three letters of “poodles” are . . . .

‘Nuff said. :)

Anyhoo, we’re still cleaning the rugs and mopping the floors. I promise more wedding blogging soon. But in the meantime, here’s a picture of Tipper (our dog) with Opie.

Ah choo!

Some time ago, Mama and I had a difference of opinion.

We were talking about the tragedy our family has faced, and how we wanted the people who supported us then to celebrate with us at the wedding. She said, “There won’t be a dry eye in the house!”

Knowing that my tears usually end up in the ugly cry (like Paris below), I thought it might be nice to give something helpful to our guests with similarly tearful tendencies.




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I remembered reading about the super cute tissue packs that people provide to wedding guests, and I thought about doing something similar. I researched the cost of the packets (either to buy them prepared, or to prepare them myself), and I realized that hankies would cost about the same. Two of my aunts and my MOH had small collections of vintage hankies from relatives that they would like to use for something meaningful, and they offered parts of those collections to me. I was so stoked!

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I told Mama of my plan, and she said, “Well, that’s basically assuming that people will cry at your wedding!” Um? I was confused.

This disagreement has long since been resolved, and Mama bought me a beautiful lot of vintage hankies on eBay. (Mama is an eBay warrior!) But this got me thinking . . . IS it rude to provide handkerchiefs at the wedding? Does it send a self-centered message? Or is it sweet and old fashioned? Just wondering.

All this thinking about cloth over paper has spilled over into my everyday (nonwedding!) life. I switched in the past year from paper napkins to cloth napkins, and I LOVE them. They make each meal seem more special, AND they’re good for the environment. Just toss ‘em in the laundry with your clothes, and out they come, ready to be reused.

I’ve got this cool coworker who lives on a farm with a peach tree, an apple tree, a cherry tree, huckleberry bushes, and a wonderful vegetable garden. She brings in loads of delicious local organic produce for all of us to share. If she leaves our office, I’m totally going with her. She’s amazing!

So this week, I was telling her about the cloth napkins, and she said she’d switched to hankies too. The very next day, two beautiful new hankies were on my desk. I haven’t used them yet – they’re so pretty that I don’t want to blow my nose on them. But I imagine it’s only a matter of time. My Kleenex box is running awfully low.

So here’s to hankies (and the friends who give them to us)! Ah choo!

Guest Blogger: Tipper!

Hi! I'm Tipper, and I'm interrupting your regularly scheduled wedding blog to bring you this urgent message: Please consider adopting a pet!

Before buying a pet that was specially bred for purchase, please at least consider animals already looking for happy homes. Aside from the major concern that purchased pets may be from puppy mills, where animal cruelty and serious health hazards abound, there is an even more important reason for considering adopting rather than buying a pet. You can save a life. According to the American Humane Association, an estimated 9.6 million animals are euthanized in the United States every year.

Rather than going over the specifics of this heartbreaking statistic, I’d like to focus on the positive aspects of adopting a pet. When you adopt a companion animal, you gain the lifelong gratitude and devotion of a pet that would otherwise be homeless. And the devotion and happiness go both ways! There are hundreds of “Happy Tails” on petfinder.com, describing the joy that adopted animals have brought to the lives of their families. And pictures, like these!

Gretchen:

Ranger:

Rascal:

Monk:

So, my little two-legged friends, please consider adopting one of us four-leggers. We're worth it!

This is Tipper, signing off with an extra slurpy smooch. Back to your regularly scheduled blog.

From the Very Beginning

The Mister called me last night, outraged that I claimed to have cankles in my last post. He says that I DO NOT have them, and that I should edit my post to remove the offending remark. I love that he’s stickin’ up for me, even if it’s against . . . well . . . me.

This proves one thing. And it’s not that I have lovely, slender ankles. It’s that love is blind. Not every guy in the world thinks my curves are slammin’, but I’m so lucky that the Mister does. Once I had someone ask whether the Mister is a leg man. I replied, “If he were, do you think he’d be dating me?!” Tee hee.

Mama says, “I may not be perfect, but parts of me are excellent.” So true. I know a few people who wouldn’t like the furriness of the Mister’s back, or the fact that you can almost fit the remote control in his ginormous belly button. Me, I like that he’s warm and cuddly, and his belly button makes me laugh. I’m grinning right now just thinking about it.

I really believe that there’s someone out there for everyone. Sometimes it just takes a little time to find said person. I’ve dated some real doozies, and stuck it out in those bad relationships because I thought that love wasn’t supposed to be easy. My last relationship was with a really nice guy who wasn’t right for me (and I wasn’t right for him). It literally never occurred to me that the effort we had to exert to keep the relationship going shouldn’t have been necessary.

That’s not to say that love is always easy. Fortunately I have two excellent models of happy marriages (Mama and Mr. Mama; Pop and Mrs. Pop). Add to that the Mister’s parents (Momma Mac and Mac Daddy). These relationships prove that love, like a well-rooted tree, is natural. It grows and bears fruit without trying. There may be hard winters that the tree must endure, but there are also optimistic springs and lush summers. So while love may not be easy, it is natural. My feelings for the Mister are the very first time that love ever felt right. Magical. Inevitable.

A commercial I heard this morning said, “If your girl is one in a million, then there are seven thousand other versions of her in the world.” I’m certainly not going to say that there is only one person for everyone in this world. I’ve seen widows who had wonderful first marriages find love a second time. While the concept of a one-and-only soul mate might not account for these stories, my feelings for the Mister have convinced me that the person or people you are meant to love are imprinted in your soul. In the words of the poet Rumi:

The moment I heard my first love story I began seeking you,
not realizing the search was useless.
Lovers don't meet somewhere along the way.
They're in one another's souls from the beginning.

When I look into my soul, I see that the Mister has been there all along.

Blog the Dog

I'm sure you’ve noticed that our beloved dog is more than just a pet – he’s a member of our family. There are several reasons for his honored status, not the least of which is that he’s a cute, furry little guy who sometimes looks like a kitty and other times has the gravitas of a civil war general.

He’s also a member of our family because he taught all of us to love again after the tragedy of losing my twin brother. To be honest, I didn’t believe that I would ever be able really to hug someone after that loss. The very thought of meeting new people who didn’t know my brother seemed a betrayal of his memory. My world was supposed to stop growing on the day that my brother’s life ended, right? Instead, a cuddly little furball pushed open the door to my heart with his little paw, and the healing began.

He’s not a genius. He gets confused when you ask him to do something as simple as lying down. And he can’t find a treat you put right in front of his nose (mainly because he’s too busy trying to please people that he forgets all about the reward.)

He understands five commands: SIT, DROP, DOWN, HUG, and KISS. The last two show his biggest asset – his heart. He puts his paws on your legs and nuzzles you for hugs, and he licks your nose when you ask for a kiss. I’d take those two actions over LIE DOWN any day.

He likes his sleep. Interrupt it, and you get a harrumph of monumental proportions, followed by his grumpy old man look. It says something along the lines of, “I am tolerating you because I love you, but keep it down in here!”

He was five years old when I rescued him from God knows what, so he came complete with a number of serious issues. He foams at the mouth when I leave home. I think he really believes I’m never coming back. He jumps on my head during storms, and he destructively scratches the door from which I leave every day. He sometimes tinkles on the corner of the couch. Fortunately, his aim is so bad, he misses the couch entirely and hits the puppy pad I put out for this particular purpose. He’s absolutely convinced that every visitor to our house intends to steal him away from us, and he routinely shakes from head to toe when in the presence of more than a few folks. He takes beef-flavored doggie prozac every day. In short, he’s a hot mess.

There is a trend these days of including dogs in the wedding party. I LOVE this idea. I mean, isn’t it a bit weird that you wouldn’t include a family member/roommate/best friend on the most important day of your life?

But when you have a dog that’s a hot mess with separation anxiety, is it really fair to put him through the ordeal? If he were 100% healthy and secure, I’d have him dressed in a cute little ringbearer’s outfit walking down that aisle.

But he’s not. And I love his wellbeing more than I love how cute he'd be at the wedding.

So I’ll just have to tell him all about it when it’s over. Just one problem -- he won’t understand a word I’m saying . . . he only speaks Chinese. He’s a shih tzu after all.

The Anti-Funeral

Think for a moment about the most important element of a wedding. You know . . . the part that makes a party seem . . . wedding-y. The dress? The cake? Chivari chairs? Chicken cordon bleu? Apparently, each person in the world (or at least each person who thinks about weddings – that’s everybody, right?) feels there is one thing without which it wouldn’t be a wedding at all. And, here’s the kicker, it’s different for each person. Which isn’t so bad when you’ve got a bride planning the wedding on her own with her mama. That’s two people to satisfy. But when you’ve included an entire community in the planning of said wedding, you’ve got yourself a heap of trouble.

For my FMIL, Momma Mac, I suspect it might be the cake. She offered to buy our buttercreamed beauty, and she enjoyed picking it out with us. My stepmother (Mrs. Pop) sent me shoes in the mail. Apparently, my rubber-soled skimmer shoes didn’t fit the fashion bill, and she kindly (I mean that – very kindly) bought me a pair that were much nicer, but still my style. Shoes are important to her. My Mama has been attempting to brainwash me about my processional music. She has played her favorite song for me at least thirty times. She may even have implemented some sort of subliminal listening system in my home, for all I know. She’s crafty like that!

Cake. Fashion. Music. There’s something else that will make our wedding for me. Family.

Sure, people love their families, and family is so stable for most people that it’s a given at a wedding, which is why they focus on the other parts, like the reception location or something. But family has been a delicate thing for me, and I’m acutely aware of it nearly every moment of every day.

My twin brother died seven years ago, and his absence has been more palpable in the wedding planning than it has been since the year he died. Our family has been through so much tragedy. And we’ve had so many loving friends who tenderly held our hearts as we’ve grieved. Now, instead of planning a funeral and just trying to make it through each day, we’re all planning a wedding and looking well into the future. In short, this wedding is the anti-funeral. Not just for me, but for all of us.

So when I listen a little too much to the opinions of family and friends, and I agonize over how to meld them into a single, coherent day, it’s not because I’m indecisive or too nice (people who know me know that’s certainly not true!). It’s because I want everyone who helped ease the grief to get a piece of the joy.

Cast of Characters

The {cypress and oak} Cast of Characters:


The Mister: My fiancé, a thoughtful, private, stalwart, adorable protector.



Mama: My mother, a creative, obsessive, magical, sparkling homebody.
Mr. Mama: My stepdad, a loud, loving, bossy, gregarious leader.



Pop: My father, a clever, silly, emotive, punny salesman.
Mrs. Pop: My stepmom, a talkative, organized, giving, entrepreneurial perfectionist.


Momma Mac: My FMIL (future mother in law), a loving, intelligent, strong, soft-spoken kindred spirit.
Mac Daddy: My FFIL (future father in law), a generous, curious, warm, dog-loving statesman.

My BFF: My MOH (maid of honor), a steadfast, loyal, smart (both intelligent and elegant) soul friend.

Family Photo Guest Book

I knew from the get-go I didn’t want to have a regular guest book. To be honest, I don’t exactly understand the purpose of a guest book. A place for guests to write their addresses? But we already know them, because that’s where we sent their invitations! I told Mama that I didn’t even want to have a guest book, but she (and the Mister) argued that people actually LIKE to sign these books. It feels wedding-y. Apparently. So I began thinking of another option that would be more than a poofy, padded satin, out-of-order address book/dust collector. (Not that there's anything wrong with that -- it's just not my thing.)

I love the idea of platters that guests can sign with special pens. You bake the platters in the oven, and the ink sets, so that you can use the platter in your daily life. (I’m all about using art and sentiment in everyday life.) They have these platter sets at pottery barn, but you can make your own for a lot less moolah by buying the platter(s) and markers separately. I think this concept would work best for a small-ish wedding. As it seems we may have more than 300 guests, they would either have to write very small, or we’d have to have tons of platters for people to sign.

That’s when I started to hear about blurb books. They’re commercial, bookstore quality books that you can create and have printed in less than seven days, starting at just $13. You can choose between different sizes of books, determine the number of pages you’d like to include, and decide whether you want a softcover, hardcover with dust jacket, or an image-wrap hardcover book. The possibilities are endless!

I love the trend of including photographs of family members at their weddings. Usually they’re put in fancy (read: expensive) frames near the gift table at the reception. But I wanted a way to include these photo memories in a way that (1) guests would be more likely to see them, and (2) I could admire them after the wedding. My vision of our wedding didn’t include life-sized posters of these photos, and my vision of our post-wedding abode didn’t include twenty or thirty wedding photos in mismatched (expensive!) frames covering every available surface. But the guestbook! What about that?

So, I’ve begun collecting amazing wedding photos from my dear family to include in the guestbook. Here are the criteria for the pictures: (1) family members, (2) at their wedding, (3) if they’re still happily married. (While I’m the product of happily divorced parents who have happily remarried other people, it’s the current, happy marriages that I hope will inspire the Mister and me in our own relationship.) I’ve not yet decided what information I will encourage guests to put in the book, but addresses are out, and a request for a more personal note is in. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, here are just a few of the wedding photos that will grace the pages of our nontraditional guest book: