Reading: uh, the program?

Moving: dancing

Listening: wedding music

Learning: my definition of Episcoplian is correct

21 October 2000: Wedding

Lord Thompson Manor loves to do weekend weddings. The wedding party occupied the joint from Friday afternoon through Sunday morning, and so Saturday we had a delicious breakfast there. Then the men of the bridal party went off to play golf (I didn't know that RDC could tell a putter from a driver, but I guess he can) and the women to the hairdresser, and I returned to the hotel to wait for BJWL, with a little tiny detour to Wal-mart. As usual, I had forgotten my toothbrush, and the one I bought at DIA was a joke. And after the rehearsal dinner we'd hung out around a fire pit, so my hair was all smoky. I hadn't planned to wash it and hadn't brought any chemicals to style it with. Plus I figured that even Wal-mart would have handkerchiefs, and it did. I figured each RDC and I would need one.

It was nearly ten when I got back to the hotel and I expected BJWL to be early, since she always is. I taped a note to my door and asked the front desk to give her a key and took a shower and washed my hair. Now it was 10:10 and she still wasn't there. I got dressed, pinned my hair to deal with later, polished my nails, read my book, tried to call RRP. Plans for the morning included going to see the land that RRP and MPR just bought. My phone had no coverage, we canceled our calling cards, I had no idea how the billing for toll calls at the hotel would work. I decided we could stand the cost of a couple of calls and left messages at my mother's house and RRP. At 10:40, there was a knock on the door. BJWL. This woman is never ever ever late. She is pathologically early. She arrives early and when you show up on time accuses you of being late. Forty minutes is unheard of. She said she'd had to get gas and it was a much longer drive than I'd said. It had taken me 45 minutes to get to Old Lyme the day before, with the cruise control set to 65 mph. It took my mother well over an hour to make the same trip. Whatever, she was there and not dead, which was all I wanted.

We went for an eensy drive around the Quiet Corner (as the northeastern corner of Connecticut calls itself, the more central, less north- or eastward bits calling themselves that to attract tourism, the actual northeastern bit calling itself that because boy howdy is it ever). We couldn't get in touch with RRP, so I might never see her land until after the house is built. We took BJWL's car, since I hated my big Murkan rental. Her car is a big Murkan tank too, but at least she's used to it. Now I realized why she was so late. Did she always drive this slowly, or has she slowed down that much? I crossed my legs under me when I realized I was pressing the floor with my right foot in some kind of vain hope for transference of acceleration. I did not snap. She went off on her sole subject of conversation, alcoholism, and told me something I really didn't want or need to know about my grandmother. I commented, honestly because we were just passing by right then, "nice cows," but that served well as a hint and she shifted to leaves or the trailer or one of her lesser subjects.

After that interminable trip, which covered about 20 miles, we returned to the hotel. I told her we'd have to vacate when RDC and Skip came back, because they'd have to shower and dress and RDC would need to be tidied and at the wedding earlier than I. In the meanwhile, I suggested, drag up a rock (i.e., a chair, a metaphor she needed explained) and watch me do my hair--an invitation I issued only because it had to get done and I had to do it in the bathroom with the mirror and she'd do as well to sit in the corner of the bathroom and hallway doorways as in the main room where she would be, believe me, unable to hear a word I said. She didn't comment audibly on the proceedings any more than I had about her driving. I dried my hair, pulled it into ponytail at my crown, turned it inside out and braided it, twisted and pinned it, my usual thing.

Oh, she did comment on something. She exclaimed about how much hair littered the bathroom. I told her that's why I never comb my hair at someone else's house (about hotels I don't scruple) and why I always comb my hair thoroughly before washing it and still stick strands to the shower walls (now that it's my own shower and I don't want to clog it), and told her I was considering making myself a hair-receiver, not that I'd ever actually make myself a switch from my combings. She didn't know what a hair-receiver was, and I told her, and even after I cited Laura Ingalls giving Ma one in approximately Little Town on the Prairie and another instance in Dorothy Canfield's The Homemaker (and it is so bizarre that the same author produced Understood Betsy), she acted like I was making it up. That's me, lying and making up books to prove my point.

I told her specifically I didn't want her to comment on my underwear, which was the pretty lacy lavender set I bought in February. I didn't want her opinion on any presumed lack of mammary support (contrary to its appearance, however, that bra does work) or on the thong panties. She didn't say a word until I pulled out the leg gear I'd brought, slightly shimmery silver that unfortunately turned out to be pantyhose. I hate pantyhose but put them on since they went so well with dress and shoes, then decided I couldn't bear them with that stupid crotch spare cloth and the binding waistband and the fact that they turn a well-fitting thong into butt floss, and shucked them. I shouldn't've said "butt floss." I explained the origin of the term, the parallel to dental floss, but she was still at a loss. Meanwhile I had found the grey thigh-highs I'd brought as a back-up and put them on. I hadn't specifically asked her to shut up about them, so she let loose. How do they fit? How do they stay on? Why do you wear them instead of pantyhose? They fit fine, they stay on with elastic, I hate pantyhose (see reasons above). Damn. She didn't say anything about my mascara, eyeliner, or lipstick. (She told my sister at 15 that makeup is meant to enhance, not to detract.) Despite the mystery of the thigh-highs and the strong possibility they were of the devil, this was a mostly fine mother-daughter visit, better than most. I was mostly ready, lacking only jewelry, when RDC and Skip came back.

Even if the room were big enough to hold four when three are dressing for a wedding, the men needed to shower and dress. I reminded her we had to leave and she slowly gathered her purse and jacket, neither of which she apparently would trust her son-in-law or our friend alone in a room with. We sat in the lobby and talked a little while longer, and RDC came out in his tux to say we could come back in. I needed to throw together a suitcase with clothes for afterward, fleece and wool and boots. All my stuff was strewn all over the spare bed, and my mother commented on my packing technique ("I see that hasn't improved"). I put on my jewelry and earrings and shoes and picked up my shawl, and I was ready. Then they were ready, and we all left, my mother in her car, RDC and Skip in Skip's, and I in the rental. Conclusion: I so do not regret blowing her off two weeks ago. A full day of needling and pointless conversation instead of a full day with my friends and chosen family. Not a tough choice.

I love the moments before a wedding, when everyone is dressed up, keyed up, and turned up. The only downside to the manor is that since it is primarily a B&B, it has only three common bathrooms (the others are attached to the guest rooms), none of which lock. I was applying lipstick in one when a woman walked in, all needlessly embarrassed, and I stood outside and was her guard against anyone else's mistaken intrusion. When she came out, she asked me to zip her up before introducing herself. That's the other thing. Everyone's family.

RDC was still holding EJB's hand, and I wandered waiting. Then everyone began to show up.

This was RDC's college crowd, as much as TJZ's wedding was mine. So: RDC and EJB went to high school together, and then after a year at U of Miami EJB joined RDC at UConn. RDC had been randomly paired with JGW his freshling year (it was sophomore year that he lived with JCC). RRP and SWBW had been randomly paired as roommates too. And Skip lived down the hall. So that's how the six of them got together--in case Steinie's girlfriend Sue wonders. EJB was the last to be married. And here we all were.

A stunning, fabulous wedding. The house really was a manor, the grounds were delightful, the flowers artistic, the food exquisite, the band well-rehearsed, and all our friends were there. TEM wore one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen. The most lovely I've seen in person, I'm sure. When EJB saw her appear at the top of the short flight of steps that led down into the herb garden where the ceremony was held, I was breaking etiquette and looking at him instead of at the bride. I did enjoy seeing his face as he first caught sight of his bride. This ceremony had two officiants as well, and even though EJB's rabbi and TEM's Episcopalian priest had never met, their ceremony was just perfect. At TJZ's wedding, the Congregationalist minister did very little but to issue Soulmate his vows. This was a more equitable split. At the end, to declare them husband and wife, they spoke in unison--truly in unison. And now I call TEM TEMB.

The most beautiful dress I have ever seen in person. Its hem and bodice and the edges of the wrap and the tail of the train had frogging? whatever that's called, like ribbon, looking embroidered. Otherwise a stiff, glimmering but not shiny satin. I've seen a shiny satin wedding gown and it was a mistake--to wear and to see.

The only problem with the outdoor setting was all the bees. They were landing all over everyone throughout, including on the matron of honor's lip. Here, RDC is trying to shoo them away from EJB. RRP and I were giggling and I was simultaneously very proud of RDC for overcoming his pathological panic around bees for his best friend's sake.

These bees liked blue, I guess, which made the navy blue bridesmaids' dresses and the blue yarmulkes kind of dangerous.

I just like this one because RDC is looking at me.

The rabbi didn't stay but I wish he had; he was jovial and didn't make it too obvious when he told EJB he should be looking at his bride, not at him, the rabbi. The priest was less jokey but very cordial. I greeted him later to tell him what a lovely ceremony it was and how impressed I was at how well he and the rabbi had read together. He said he had been a monk for 20 years and was therefore very good at keeping time with his neighbor. I was confused; I didn't know there were any Episcopalian monks. "Few and far between," he replied, and I'm still not sure if he was joking because he followed, "I was a Benedictine. Now I'm Episcopalian. Just a slight difference."
Again I wasn't sure if he was joking (about the difference) but he was obviously speaking light-heartedly so I asked him to confirm my definition--that Episcopalian is Anglican without the queen, and Anglican is Catholic without the pope. He said he couldn't have put it better himself.

I'd never seen RDC in a tuxedo before so I was pleased to have the opportunity. Mostly I felt like Lydia Bennet, longing to know if Wickham would be married in his blue coat.

They had choreographed everything down to the wire. The best man's toast came immediately after the ceremony while everyone was still gathered in one spot. The manor, being a manor, didn't have one large dining space but four large dining rooms, two on each end of the house, so really this was the best time. The balcony was a half-floor above the sunken herb garden. Lemon verbena wafted everywhere.

Before he began speaking, I told JHRDM that RDC would mention his Palm Pilot--even though it wasn't part of his written toast--because he'd want everyone to know he was reading off that and not off a pad of paper in a stiff cover. And he did. He said something about his two forms of memory, the Palm Pilot and his wife.

What was really great, besides the toast, which was superb of course, was hearing people around me comment that that was the best toast they had ever heard. And I, being me, had to say thank you, and then the person would realize I was the best man's wife, and wasn't that sweet how the best man said that for him, marriage was the best part of life.

I love him. I do. He's a geek with geeky toys and I love him.

We're all arranged in couples. Standing, me, RDC, EJB, TEMB, RRP, MPR; seated, JGW, Robin, JHRDM, Skip, Bernie, and Sooby.

Unsurprisingly, my favorite picture from the weekend.

And I have to tell my sister how totally I am in her debt for this outfit. She gave me the dress for my birthday last year; she handed down the earrings 12 years ago when she got bored with them (and I don't think I've worn them since college but they were great with this), and the shawl, over my chair in the lower right, she bought for me in Italy in 1990. Giving it to me, she said I'd better like it because it was for me that she toted several square feet of cashmere around Florence on a blazing August day.

Wraps are in this year, like on my ballgown for DMB's wedding, on TEMB's gown, what RRP is wearing, and what JHRDM is not wearing (because it was such a warm day).

The balcony where RDC to give his toast is directly behind them, outside the french doors. I don't know if RDC or I took this; whoever did could have waited for EJB to swallow. Still, the best I have of the two of them.

The flower arrangements were wonderful. Iris are Their flower, I guess, and this room had lots of them, as had the cake. The manor's other three dining rooms are decorated differently, and the florist invented different arrangements to suit each room.

I had never been to a Jewish, or half-Jewish, wedding before, and though I knew about the chair dance (which I'm sure has a better name) I'd never witnessed one. I remembered the song from music in elementary school, when we would dance and spin all over our classrooms singing it.

I am also glad RDC's shoulders didn't give out. Notice he hefted the chair with the lighter person in it.

After the chair dance, everyone danced. JHRDM, Sooby, and I danced almost every song. RDC danced several with me and, gratifyingly, realized I am a much better dancer when I'm not with him. Even Sooby's husband, who can dance, and does lead, cannot get me to follow effectively. I am always after some different drummer or other.

The picture of the men is, perhaps self-evidently, somewhat later in the evening. Not on EJB's song list was "YMCA," which the band played anyway; getting RDC to dance to it at RRP's wedding was a one-time thing I guess.

I don't remember what this song was. But we were dancing, anyway.

He was about to leave the dance floor in search of liquid at one point and then the band started "Wonderful Tonight" so I dragged him back. EJB's and TEMB's song was another Eric Clapton, "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" and during "Wonderful Tonight" RDC told me the latter had been JGW and Robin's--so I spun him around to show him that Robin had got JGW on the dance floor.

The band introduced their most amusing choice of song by saying it was one of TEMB's favorites. She is a few years younger than I and I wondered what it could be. The first notes sounded and Sooby squealed, but I took a little to recognize "Jessie's Girl." JHRDM, Sooby, and I squealed and danced and did our best pubescent acts.

Afterward, we gathered around the fireplaces outside--you can see one of the two behind me in the group picture above--and Skip and others played guitar and we all sang. "Piano Man" (perhaps perversely), "Wild World" (because I suggested Cat Stevens), "Friend of the Devil" and "Uncle John's Band" (lots of Deadheads in these parts), that Green Day song "Time of Your Life" or whatever it's called, "Let Her Go" in a way I'm sure Hootie would have hated, "American Pie," "Hotel California" (to which I at first objected, saying it wasn't late and spooky enough yet). That was great too.